Clair De Lune
by Amberdeengirl
Summary: Edward Masen is the star of a top Dance Academy. Bella Swan is just the first year new girl who Edward teaches for partnering. But as an unfathomable connection emerges in the moonlit ballet studio, Edward and Bella become the breathtaking, beautiful combination of skill and passion. How can this work, though, when Edward refuses to acknowledge their dance had ever happened?
1. Chapter 1

Alright, I have writer's block for my other story.

So, after getting completely distracted by...can't remember what, but it must have sparked something to do with dancing...I came up with this.

So, if you would like this to continue on in the hopes of becoming more than a crappy one chapter fling (like the five second fling I had with Carlisle before I reminded myself he was Edward's _father), _then please, please review.

Review!

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The cab drove away, leaving me on the cobbled driveway with my suitcase, alone. The school loomed up in front of me. It was like an old British manor house. Three stories of red bricks and large windows, complete with stone gargoyles and brick chimneys. I almost groaned. God what was I getting myself into? This place was not fit for someone like me. I ran my hand through my hair as I tugged my bag up the steps.

The dark brown double doors looked far more menacing than they should have been. A knocker was nailed into the left one. It was shaped like two crossed ballet shoes. Above the doors, engraved on a stone plaque was an elegant script, declaring

_Force de la Beauté_

_Ballet Academy_

Well, no backing down now. This was it. Force (For-seh) Ballet Academy. One of the best dance schools in America, some would say in the world, but of course to me that didn't really matter. It may be one of the best, but in the end it comes down to the dancer. And I was hardly a ballerina. I glanced down at my faded jeans and trainers, my print t-shirt and my Dad's old bush shirt. Yeah, graceful and elegant for sure. I shook my head and bit my lip, trying to foster some determination, and rapped on the door with the shoe knocker.

Oh God, I shouldn't be doing this, I'm going to make a complete fool of myself and they'll probably throw me out...why had they even let me in here? I was an Academic first, an _amateur _dancer second. But then why had I even wanted to come? I couldn't go to classes here, I couldn't study English in any way but correspondence school, I would miss out on my exams...but then, I remembered what I'd told Charlie, my Dad.

_"I love Ballet, Dad, it's my passion." _

It was true then, and it was still true now. I loved ballet so much, and a chance to dance every single day, to _live_ in dance, was greater than anything I could possibly do at school. I was guaranteed to get into an Ivy League college, I was guaranteed to be the dux of my high school, I was guaranteed to get a well paid job straight away...but that was _nothing_ in comparison to dancing.

"Hello?" A voice broke me out of my thoughts. The door was open, and a lady stood behind it. I knew she was a dancer, or at least she had been. She was tall and slim still, but she looked middle aged. Her brown and caramel hair was twisted softly down to her shoulders. She held a white manila folder in her hands. When she spoke, I heard the slight French accent, "You must be Isabella Swan, am I correct?"

I nodded, trying to smile. She held out a slender hand to me, "Madame Esme Cullen, Head Ballet Mistress." We shook hands. Then she looked me up and down, not unkindly, but I was still freaked. Was she surprised at my lack of...elegance, grace, ballerina-ness? Would she reject me on the spot? "How old are you?" She asked me.

"Seventeen," I said. She frowned and flicked through her folder.

"This says you are in first year, yet you are almost two years older than them."

My heart thrummed nervously in my chest, "I started ballet late...I still haven't caught up with my age..." Oh God, I was going to fall into pieces...they wouldn't want someone like me, there was probably some sort of mistake when they were looking at the audition papers...but Madam Esme simply said, "Well, you might find your peers rather...immature, most dancers your age are seniors by now."

"I know," I said, nodding. My old ballet teacher had warned me about this, that I might be rather short on company because of my age difference. But Force Academy didn't go by age – it went by skill, and I'd auditioned for first year anyway.

Madam Esme just looked me over and nodded. "Classes have almost finished, so I'll just show you up to your room." She pushed the door open a little wider, "follow me, please."

I lifted my suitcase over the threshold, coming into a cool entrance hall. I looked about me. The walls and floor were dark cherry wood. Windowed doors led off into other rooms. A grand cherry wood staircase drifted up to the second floor. Carved into the banister railings were ballet dancers and male danseurs, balancing en Pointe, or posing as if performing a lift, holding up the banister. Above it, a great chandelier hung, thousands of crystals – or diamonds, for all I knew – shimmered in the light from the windows. Madam Esme must have seen the wonder on my face. She smiled at me.

"Welcome to Force, Miss. Swan,"

"It's amazing," I choked out.

She smiled further, and turned to go up the stairs, her smart heels clicking on the wooden floor. "Monsieur Marcus Vigneron was very into the decoration of this school. This staircase took over two years to complete."

"How old is it?" I asked, heaving my bag up the first step. Somehow the awe of the hall had given me temporary reprieve from my nerves.

"Monsieur Vigneron built it here in the late eighteen hundreds."

"It survived the revolution?"

I could hear the smile in her voice, "Even you Americans had to appreciate Monsieur Vigneron's art." Her voice filled with admiration, "he was truly a remarkable dancer. I only wish I could have seen him."

We reached the first landing, where the staircase split off into two, one going up on either side. I had to hurry to keep up with Madame Esme as she glided up. I must have looked like an idiot, tripping behind her with my clunky suitcase. "Now," She came back to business, "the door on the left when you entered leads to the dining hall, the one on the right leads to the theatre. My office and Master Carlisle's are on the bottom floor also."

"Right," I said, not even trying to remember them, knowing my forgetful self. Finally we got to the first floor. Glass double doors showed through to a corridor. I could hear a mishmash of piano music coming through them.

Madam Esme pointed to them, "through there are where most of the studios are. You are not permitted to practise in them alone without leave from a teacher. Senior dancers get priority, and should they need your studio you are to give it to them without question."

Jeez, that seemed a little unfair...I kept my mouth shut. If there was one thing I knew about ballet, it was that Ballet Masters and Mistresses were twice as fierce as any normal teacher. And they had twice the strength...

We didn't go into the corridor. Instead, Madam Esme led me up _another _flight of stairs. My arms were killing me. I wasn't a fashion buff, but I very much doubted I'd have much time to shop once I got here, so I'd brought every item of clothing that could fit in my bag. God it was heavy!

"Dorm inspection is at six forty-five, breakfast at seven." I climbed the last of the stairs (hopefully), dragging my suitcase up behind me, breathing heavily. But Madam Esme was off again. I hurried along behind her. The second floor was identical to the first, except that the doors down the corridor had no windows. "You need to be at your first class at seven forty-five to warm up, that is your own responsibility, not the teacher's. Class officially starts at eight. Gymnastics classes are held on the bottom floor, as is the fitness room, which you need to get a pass from a teacher for." She pointed briefly at a door as she walked, "Girls' toilets and showers."

God, all the information, how could I remember all this? "You have classes up until one, then you have lunch in the dining hall. Classes recommence at one forty-five. Warm up again, of course." She finally stopped at a door right at the end of the corridor. "Classes end at five thirty. Dinner is at six. Then you have free time until eight thirty. Lights out at nine, ten for seniors.

Oh," she said, stopping her long speech for a second, "and we are very strict when it comes to eating. We don't have skinny dancers here; we have slim and healthy ones." I nodded. No problem, I'd continued to eat McDonalds long after I started dancing, although that was probably just as unhealthy as not eating anything...

She opened the door and we walked in. "This is your dorm." She said, flicking the lights on.

I looked around. Ten beds with white bedspreads ran up both sides of the room. The floors were shiny cherry wood, of course, and white curtains with red roses adorned the old fashioned windows, which bathed the room in warm light. At the foot of each bed was a large cherry wood trunk. A narrow rug had been rolled down the aisle between them, kind of like the red carpet at the Emmys. At the very end of the room there were a few couches and some magazines. "I believe that that bed is yours," said Madam Esme, pointing to one in the near corner, standing right in front of a window. I smiled. It was so simple for such a grand house...it kind of reminded me of home. I dumped my suitcase next to my bed.

"How many people are staying in here?" I asked.

"Yours was the last free bed. We have plans to renovate this floor next year, make more small dorm rooms like the seniors have. These rooms up here have hardly changed since the school opened."

"It's nice though," I murmured, still looking around. There was an old fireplace at the very end of the room with the couches, but it was boarded up.

Madam Esme opened up the folder she'd been carrying, and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to me, "Your schedule, starting from tomorrow." She pulled out another sheet. "And here's a list of the basic rules. Learn them this way, not the hard way. We do have detentions here, Miss. Swan."

I nodded again. She gave a sharp stare, just to make sure, and then glanced at her expensive-looking watch. "Classes will be out in a couple of minutes," she said, "I would suggest unpacking before this dorm turns to chaos. Teenagers..." she murmured with an unexpected smile, looking fondly round the empty room. She almost looked motherly...

Finally turning back to me, she gave me one last studious gaze. "Work hard here, Miss. Swan, and you will have the chance to go far. Good luck." She nodded in goodbye and left, shutting the door behind her.

I slumped down on the bed. "Gaawd," I moaned. The travel, with the added stress of Madam Esme, had drained me out. I wanted nothing more than to sleep all my worries away. Of course, that was unlikely. Soon, I heard several footsteps coming toward the door. A whole bunch of girl came in, giggling and chatting, still in their leos.

"Oh my God!" One girl's particularly loud voice stood out from the rest, "I saw him today! He smiled at me! I was like, crap what do I do? So I just kind of waved."

"And then what?"

She giggled, "He went back to practising. I bet you he was trying to show off for me!"

"Come on Jess," said another girl, who looked Asian and was wearing a black and green leotard, "He's always practising, whether you're there or not."

"Yeah," said the girl – Jess, "but still!" She squealed, leaping around with her first friend. The Asian girl rolled her eyes as they jumped around in circles, but she was still smiling. Of course, she just had to turn and notice me. Something I was trying to avoid by sitting stock still.

"Hey," she said, coming over to me, "you must be the new girl. I'm Angela," she stuck out a hand. I tried smiling as I shook it.

"Bella," I told her. She seemed okay...

"Oh my God," Said the one called Jessica, spotting me. "You're the new girl, right?"

"Yep," I said. Great, I had a nickname.

"Her name's Bella," said Angela, turning to me, "this is Jessica and Lauren," she nodded to her other friend.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"So where you from?" Asked Jessica bouncily, sitting down cross-legged on the floor.

"Forks, Washington,"

"Small world," she replied, "me and Lauren are from Seattle. We went to Forks once, on the way to a theatre,"

Lauren gave a snort, "yeah, almost missed it. It was so small."

I wasn't quite sure whether to take that as a joke or an insult, so I just raised my eyebrows at her.

Angela, who was fast becoming my favourite acquaintance, piped up quickly, "so how old are you? Did you get out of high school before all those exams everyone complains about?"

Oh God, this wasn't really any better than Lauren, "um, I'm seventeen, and sadly no. But they're right to complain. Exams suck."

But they didn't seem to care about that, "Seventeen?" Exclaimed Jessica, sitting up.

"What are you doing here in first year?" Asked Angela, equally surprised.

"I started Ballet really late," I shrugged, "I'm not up my age level yet, so I was put in first year."

Lauren raised an eyebrow, "why'd they let you in, then? The Board has seriously high standards; they hardly ever lets in anyone above sixteen if they haven't come out of another academy, let alone someone who's not even _at _their age group."

"Lauren!" Angela exclaimed, giving her a meaningful glance.

She shrugged, "simple fact."

I pushed my hair back, sighing, "You haven't seen me dance, so you're hardly fit to judge."

She purposefully glanced at my shabby clothes and messy, loose brown hair. "I don't think I need to."

"Oh come on, Lauren," said Jessica, standing up and tugging her arm, "let's go. My feet are screaming for a soak."

Lauren just smirked and followed Jessica away.

"Sorry," said Angela sincerely, putting a hand on my arm, "she can be kind of harsh sometimes."

I smiled, "well, clearly her little mind has yet to learn subtlety."

Angela nodded with a grin, "I know. So why'd you arrive so late? We're three weeks in."

I ran my hand through my hair again, "I had a few problems convincing my parents that I wanted to come."

"Ugh! Parents! They just don't get it, do they?"

I smiled and shook my head, "my Dad's a Police Sheriff. I don't think beauty and grace are in his dictionary. He took some convincing."

"And your Mom?" Angela prompted.

I groaned, "She was even worse! She's a teacher, so she's always viewed me as her little academic star. Ballet didn't come into it. It was Phil, my Mom's stepdad who convinced her. He plays ball professionally, if you could call minor league that, so he gets what it's like to love something other than English and Math and stuff. He told me to go for it..." my smile faded, "of course, what with Lauren and the whole dropping years thing, I'm beginning to think Math would have been a better option."

"Hey don't say that," Angela told me, "you were right before; no one can judge until they see you dance. That's what this is about. And even then, the instructors will make a dancer out of you no matter what."

I grinned, "They're harsh, aren't they?"

She took a deep breath, "Oh yeah, very. Speaking of which, a foot soak sounds very appealing." She glanced at me worriedly, "do you mind?"

"Of course not!" I said, "Even I know the pain of ballet feet. I was going to go have a quick look around anyway."

"Great," she said. We both stood up. "I'll see you at dinner then."

"Right," I smiled, and went out into the cool corridor.

I wandered through it, revelling in the quiet. Well, Angela seemed nice. More mature than Jessica and Lauren – that was for sure. But they were all still young, and they were probably all way better than me. What did age matter?

I meandered down to the first floor, my hand gliding down the polished banister. It was so quiet, so peaceful. You wouldn't think it was a school. I guessed that everyone was getting changed for dinner. The double glass doors I'd seen before were open now, and I decided I'd take a look at the studios. No doubt they were extensively posh.

I was just about to peek inside one when music drifted down the corridor.

I turned around...hearing those first few tentative notes...

_Claire de Lune._

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_

WELL? Did you love it?

Hate it?

Review! Freedom of speech! Review!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the reviews! You had me dancing round my room like the possessed ginga that I am, so cheers.

I strongly recommend listening to Claire De Lune while you read this first bit, not sure how much effect it has, though.

Please tell me what you think!

AND if you are a dancer yourself I would love to know a bit about what it's like, what common things happen or any ideas you have for the story OR if I've got something wrong :D

Right, Enjoy!

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It was like a magnet, echoing through the darkening halls like mist in a forest. I had to see where it came from. I followed it right to the end of the corridor, to the last door on the left. The piano came softly from within. I knew it was a recording. I looked in throw the small window.

There, standing in the middle of the dimly lit studio, was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. He was tall, with spiky bronze hair and perfect muscles, like any male dancer. It was obvious that was what he was, of course. He wore black tights with a black leotard underneath, standing stock still in third position – one foot in front of the other, half concealing it. His arms were held loosely by his sides. His head was turned slightly down.

I stared in awe at his face. His strong, determined jaw, straight lips...his eyes closed, his dark brows shaped in a 'v'. He looked so focussed, concentrating so hard on the music. His muscled shoulders rose and fell silently as the music dropped into its last note before the beginning repeated. I knew the piece so well. As the next chord was struck, he began to raise his arms from his sides. His head lifted as well, and I watched as he inhaled, his arms raising smoothly, his face relaxing. It was entrancing to watch. He stopped at shoulder height, and then his palms turned, facing upwards. He held it for two bars, standing in serenity.

And then he began to move. Just a point to the left, his arms raised...

I knew this part of the music, it was where the speed, and rolling, tumbling notes came. Suddenly, he was moving at a startling pace, leaping, running around the room, his arms poised out. And suddenly he was flying, soaring in a beautiful leap, his leg muscles rippling. He landed straight into pirouette, spinning perfectly and then as the music calmed, so did he, stepping with exaggerated tentativeness back to centre, changing so fluently from simple position to the next. But as it built for a second time, he flew again, this time sideways, with such strength and poise...a tear came to my eye. He leapt high in the air, both legs folding out and under him, face turning to the sky, looking so calm and perfect.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Came a voice from behind me. I spun round, caught unawares.

It was a lady, or a girl, perhaps, a good two inches taller than me with creamy caramel skin and strawberry blond hair, elegantly done up in a twisted bun. No guessing, even without the shiny gold leotard and skirt. She was a ballerina.

Quickly I wiped the tear away from my eye, and tried to act normal. "Uh..." what had she said? "Oh, right, yeah," I nodded, "He's...amazing."

She smiled, as if amused by my flustering. Pearly white teeth flashed out at me. "You haven't seen him dance before?"

"No," I said, "I'm new here..." God, it had even taken me a while to remember that much. The music still came from the door. I wanted to turn back and watch him. I _needed _to. "So...who is he?" I asked, trying to remember there was someone there.

She gave a lopsided smile, "well, I thought you'd at least know that. He's Edward Masen, one of the best danseurs in America."

"I don't find that hard to believe." I murmured.

She was looking amused again, her perfectly outlined hazel eyes glinting. "He's auditioning for the American Ballet in two months, though it's pretty much a given that he'll get in, and be a soloist as well."

I just nodded. I knew that the music was finishing, and that I had to see him before it did. I tried to glance inconspicuously back through the window. He was doing his final set around the room, each step, each leap, each turn, perfect.

"You know what's also really great?" As the music went down to delicate drops on the keys once more, he returned to centre. And then, in the last roll of fast notes, he broke out into an amazing row of pirouettes, so strong and certain...wait, had the girl just said something to me?

"Oh," I said, reluctantly turning back to her, "uh, what?"  
She just gave another smile, "I'm his partner." Then she pushed past me and opened the door. Edward Masen stopped his beautiful round of pirouettes, his eyes flashing open. Wait...his eyes had been closed the entire time? I thought back and didn't remember them being open...God...but then, I'd heard of dancers who knew their stage so well that they could do it blind folded. But when I'd watched Edward, it was like he wasn't doing it to show skill, but to feel the music deeper...

"Hey Eddie," said my new acquaintance, gliding into the room in her long-legged grace.

"Tanya," Edward nodded, going to the CD player and switching the music off. His voice was strong and low, perfect to my ears. "I was thinking we should do this for the audition," he was saying.

"I was thinking something more modern," said Tanya nonchalantly, tying up her shoes.

Edward shook his head, wiping sweat of his brow, "you know I don't fit it."

"Oh but Eddie I do," said Tanya, standing up and putting a delicate hand on his shoulder.

He just sighed and shook his head again, "come on, let's warm up."

He slid his arm around her waist and they began their partner stretches. Seeing the two of them like that, in what I imagined would be quite a private moment, brought me back to myself. Crap! What the hell am I doing? Staring in on someone's private rehearsal? I snapped away from the window and began walking quickly back down the hall.

People were just starting to come down for dinner, and I joined the throng of students going downstairs.

Edward Masen's dance was still in my head as I entered the dining hall, his spins and turns, his effortless strength. I absentmindedly followed the flow of people to the big window where the food was being served. And to Claire De Lune, as well. I had listened to it so many times; it's loose, flowing ribbon of notes. It was always the piece that calmed me. And to see that man dance it...it brought a swirling feeling to my chest. It was like there was a whole new layer to the music. I snapped out of my little reverie as the lunch lady asked me which dinner I wanted.

"Pasta vegetables and salad or rice vegetables and salad?" She was asking me.

"Oh, um," wow, big differences... "pasta, please?" It sounded more like a question than anything else. I was handed a warm plate and got out of the line. I looked around the hall. It looked like it was straight from Buckingham Palace. The massive windows were adorned with heavy gold threaded curtains. Great tapestries portrayed ballet dancers in perfect positions, surrounded by cherubs or trees.

Three massive chandeliers hung from the decorated ceiling of angel-like ballerinas and their god worthy cavaliers. Large circular tables were spaced out evenly, and students sat eating and chatting with their friends. At the front of the hall there was a raised platform, where a long table seated twenty adults, clearly the teachers, presiding over the hall. I recognized Madame Esme sitting near the middle.

"Hey Bella! Over here!" Came Angela's voice. Oh thank God, I was saved from the sitting-alone-trying-to-not-exist ordeal. She sat at one of the round tables with a whole group of others, two I recognized as Jessica and, rather unfortunately, Lauren. I went over and gratefully sat down next to Angela.

"Thanks," I said.

She smiled, "no problem."

"Hey who's this?" Asked the guy sitting on my other side. It immediately brought the entire table's eyes on me.

"This is Bella Swan," Angela told the table, "Bella, Mike Newton." He gave me a cute smile, his baby-blue eyes shining. Angela began pointing round the table, "Eric, Tyler, Lauren and Jess, who you've already met," Jess gave me an overexcited smile, whilst Lauren just flicked around a piece of lettuce with her fork. Clearly she hadn't gotten over her issues yet...whatever they even were.

Angela carried on, trying to act oblivious to Lauren's snarky look, "and finally we have Ryan, Eliza and Ben." I watched as I saw Ben look at her and then quickly flick away. A blush rose to Angela's cheeks and I grinned, hiding it with a forkful of salad.

"So how's your first day been?" Mike asked me enthusiastically.

I smiled at him, "I only just got here, really. But it's certainly nice, well the building at least," I added, "I haven't been to any classes."

He nodded, "hey hopefully we're in some together."

I turned back to my food, "Yeah, that'd be cool." I told him uncertainly.

He continued on, not noticing my reluctance, "We're short one girl in our Pas de Deux class. You should be my partner."

Jessica suddenly snapped her head around, "But Mike! You said I could go with you this time!"

"Yeah, I know Jess, but – "

"No," I butted in, "it's okay, I'm sure I'd rather sit out for the first class and see how you guys do things in this place, you should go together."

His face fell, "well, I guess...if you're sure..."

I nodded, "totally."

Then Mike sparked up, "hey maybe we could get together after classes and I'll help you catch up with stuff." Jessica glowered at me and flicked her head round to talk to Lauren. Oh God, I'm going to become the most hated girl in First Year in no time flat if poor Mike doesn't shut up.

"Um," diplomacy diplomacy... "I think I'll catch up fine by myself...but, thanks..."

"So, did you have a look around?" Asked Angela, who was fast becoming my faithful hero.

I smiled gratefully at her, then answered, "Kind of..." I hesitated, "do you know Edward Masen?"

I heard a groan come from Mike, "Masen," he grumbled, chomping on some pasta.

Angela smiled, "did you see him?"

I nodded, "he's an amazing dancer."

"I know," she said with a grin, "how did you see him?"

"I was going along the first floor corridor, and he was rehearsing."

"God, you're lucky," said Angela, "he hardly ever rehearses in front of anyone."

"Him and his bitch Tanya," Lauren drawled from her seat. She smirked at me, "don't tell me you have a crush on him."

I leaned in, partially closing the space between us. "Lauren, I, unlike you, don't base everything on first impressions, so it would be very hard to crush on him when I'd only seen him once...Though you're immediate idea of it could suggest that you yourself had a crush on him." I added in an afterthought.

She just gave me a cold glare and flicked back to Jessica.

I glanced at Angela. She gave me a quiet smile.

"It is true though," said Mike, seeming to count himself in our conversation. "He's an arse, particularly with Tanya Denali by his side."

"I met her, too," I told them, "she seemed alright."

Angela nodded in agreement, "Lauren's just jealous because Tanya is _seriously _good. What did she say to you?"

"Oh, she just told me who Edward was and stuff."

"That's because she sees Edward as her prize dog," said the guy I thought I remembered as Tyler. He had tan skin and cropped brown hair.

"Yeah, but he's anything but," said Angela, "Edward is his own man. As much as the school loves him, he can be a bit of a liability."

"How?" I asked.

She grinned, "last year, when the school decided their production was going to be a new contemporary, Edward threatened to leave and go to Aro Colaianni School."

"God, changing schools? That is extreme," I said.

"Well," said Mike, "apparently the choreographer was some local guy who wanted to have everyone in bright pink skin suits."

"So he always gets what he wants?" I confirmed.

But Angela shook her head, "it's not that," she said, "I think it's more that he doesn't like to do a crap performance. A lot rests on his shoulders."

"Yeah," muttered Mike, "he only relaxes around his little gang over there." He nudged his head to the right.

I looked over to the table, where four honestly beautiful looking people were all chatting together. One girl was short, with short jet black hair and a cute, almost pixie like smile. She was holding hands with the guy next to her, who was tall and quite thin, even for a ballet dancer. He had honey blond hair, set in an old fashioned style that probably wouldn't suit any other guy.

Across the table sat another girl, who was tall, with silky blond hair and red lips. She was probably a beautiful ballerina, judging by the grace in which she moved. Next to her, wolfing down his dinner like he hadn't eaten in months, was a seriously muscular guy. _Seriously. _He had cropped dark hair and a cheeky grin. I had never seen such a muscular ballet dancer. Surely that could be an asset?

"Who are they?" I asked Angela.

"Rosalie Hale's the blond one smacking the guy on the head," sure enough, she _was _smacking the muscular guy on the head, laughing as she chastised him for something. "He's Emmet Cullen."

"Cullen?"

Angela nodded, "Master and Mistress Cullen's son."

"I'm surprised they let him get so muscular," I said, staring at his wide set shoulders.

She shrugged, "most of the time he's supporting Rosalie. She owns the stage when she's on. She just needs him to lift her."

"What about the other two?"

"Alice Brandon and Jasper Hale, Rosalie's sister. Honestly, they are so cute together." She sighed as we watched him kiss her lovingly on the cheek.

Tyler, Eric and Mike all made belching noises. I laughed.

"They're some of the best dancers here," Angela continued, "along with Edward and Tanya, of course. But yeah, they're basically his crew. They break all sorts of unimportant rules."

"Speaking of rules," murmured Mike, his eyes on the teacher's table. I turned round. A man had stood up, he was maybe in his thirties with blond hair and a danseur's strong body. With a bit of 'shushing' the hall was quiet.

"Good Evening, students," his voice echoed across the hall.

"That's the headmaster, Master Carlisle Cullen," whispered Angela next to me.

"There are just a couple of announcements," he said. I thought I could detect some French in his voice, "firstly, Master Hinde would like me to remind you all that personal displays of affection are not needed in the middle of or in between classes." There were a couple of sniggers from the students.

"Does that go for you and Mistress Esme as well, then, sir?" Called out Jasper Hale, leaning back on his seat. The hall burst into laughter. Master Carlisle folded his arms, but said nothing.

It was Madam Esme who stood up and yelled. "Who wants two hours conditioning tomorrow before breakfast?" Apparently she was serious, because the hall was once again quiet.

"Thank you, dear," said Master Carlisle, loud enough for us all to hear, then leaned in to give her a long, drawn out kiss. The hall was once again laughing. Master Carlisle finally turned back to the room, "In answer to your question, Mister Hale, no, it doesn't."

"Aww," moaned Emmet Cullen, "that's hardly fair!"

"Son, if there is one thing you will learn from me, it is that life is not fair...not for you, at least," he smiled at his son, "and you and Mister Hale can go to detention together." He looked to the rest of the school, "And anyone who does show public displays of affection between classes will be joining them. Now, secondly, I am sure you are all aware that your termly assessments are coming up in a few weeks and if you need extra tuition you must sign up on the notice board in the entrance hall." He surveyed the school for a moment, then announced, "School dismissed."

There was a burst of activity as everyone stood and headed for the kitchen window to drop their plates back. "See what I mean," said Angela, gesturing to Jasper and Emmet's little group.

I smiled, "I'm surprised Master Carlisle was so relaxed about it."

"Well, he's certainly not like that in classes. Out of the ballet studio, he's very relaxed. In it, though," she made a face, "you won't find a tougher teacher in this school. He pushes us way past our limits sometimes."

We dumped our plates and headed back up to our dorm. It was seven, and we had an hour and a half to kill. Angela had to go off and practise. I decided I'd stay in the dorm and read. Reading had always been a way to calm down for me, take myself away from everything. But as I read through the opening passages of 'Wuthering Heights' for the millionth time in my life, I found my mind drifting off.

All I could think about was Edward Masen in that studio, his expression of such focus, and then of total serenity as he flew through the air.

I fell asleep to his strong, beautiful dance.

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Please Review! They inspire!


	3. Chapter 3

_Alright, so like my last chapter, it's very drafty because I have to leave in ten minutes for a musical rehearsal and I haven't even packed and I'm staying at my friend's house tonight ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH! _

_So, please bless me with a review and as soon as I get home tomorrow I will give you the next (very dramatic) chapter._

_Enjoy!_

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I woke to a loud banging on the door. I glanced at the clock next to me. Six thirty. Who the hell was waking me up at this unearthly hour? I moaned and rolled over, pulling my pillow onto my ears. "Shove off!" I mumbled, right before I realized where I was. Ballet School.

Crap! I shot up in bed to find the whole of my dorm staring at me. They were already out of bed. I spotted Lauren further down. She was smirking at me, and then she turned her gaze to whoever was standing at the door. I flipped round in bed.

Madam Esme stood there with her hands on her hips. "Good Morning to you too, Miss. Swan." She said curtly.

"Oh crap – I mean, sorry," I shut my mouth before anything else could get out.

"Am I a little early?" She chimed, then glanced at her watch, "Shall I come back at say, ten?" I heard Lauren snigger behind me. I threw off my duvet and stood up, trying to look dignified in my blue and white polka dot pyjama pants and singlet.

"Sorry, Madam...I'm just not used to this," yeah, it sounded seriously feeble.

She raised a perfect eyebrow at me, then turned her attention back to the dorm. She clapped her hands, "dépèchez-vous!" She ordered, and left the room.

Lauren snorted and burst into laughter. "Shot Bella,"

I pulled a hand through my messy hair, rolling my eyes. "Shut it, snarky," I muttered, and opened up my trunk to find some clothes. It was still dark outside. I didn't do early mornings well, and grumpiness was part of the package for waking me up. But not to Madam Esme...I cringed mentally. God! I quickly yanked out a black v-necked camisole (thin straps) leo, pale pink tights and a cardigan and knitted shorts for between classes. The academy's dress code wasn't too strict – so long as your leo was predominantly black and you had pink tights, everything else was alright. Then I headed for the showers, knowing people would almost certainly be laughing at me in the dorm.

The warm water was just the wakeup call I needed. I stretched and rolled my shoulders as the water cascaded down my back. I was starting classes today...the thought sparked the first of many nervous pangs in my belly. Oh god, what would my teachers think of me? What would everyone else think of me? What if I was seriously bad? There was a reason why I'd been put in the first years.

I shut off the shower and got changed, just praying that I wasn't going to make an utter fool of myself today, though of course, I reminded myself, I'd already achieved that. Then I pushed my hair back and twisted it into a simple bun. The girls around me were doing intricate plaits down their scalps and weaving in ribbons which matched their leos. I sighed, looking at my plainness, then I coated my head in hairspray and left.

As soon as I got back to the dorm, Angela came up to me, grinning. "If I say Good Morning, will you bite my head off?" She tried saying it with a straight face.

I rolled my eyes but grudgingly smiled back. "I'm really not used to this whole waking up early thing. My old school started at quarter to nine."

"Well, you better, because Lauren's going to wet herself laughing like she was."

I sighed. "So what do we do now? Run ten laps?"

She laughed, "Dorm inspection. Make your bed, tidy up your area, make sure you look tidy."

"I never saw the point in making beds," I muttered.

"Try telling that to Madam Esme, she's a perfectionist,"

"Like every ballet teacher."

She nodded, "indeed."

I began straightening up my duvet. I was just tugging on the last corner when she walked in. "Ready, ladies?" It was a rhetorical question. She marched right in, stopping in front of people and pointing out if their tights were laddered or if their hair was messy. It made me feel as if we were all in the army. Perhaps a salute was in order.

When she reached my bed she nodded at me, in recognition of my screw up earlier. I knew the whole room was waiting for her to pour her sarcasm all over me, but she just gave me a once over and moved. I let out a breath. Thank God.

When she'd finally finished, she walked back past the beds, her heels clicking on the floor, "Have a good day, mes fleurs!" She said happily, with a flounce of her arms, and went out the door.

"Jeez, these teachers are so unpredictable," I told Angela as we walked down to breakfast. She'd dressed in the same black and green leo from yesterday, her hair done up in an elegant swirl.

"Oh I know," she said, "but they're very good – strict, but good."

I took a breath, my nerves thrumming again, "I hope they don't murder me today."

"Why should they have reason to?"

"Ugh!" I moaned, putting a hand to my head, "I'm sure they'll find one."

"You don't know that," Angela told me.

When we entered the dining hall, the sunlight was just beginning to come through the windows. I looked to the teacher's table, where they sat sipping coffee and reading the papers like they were just sitting in a normal household. It was comical, really. Many people had already finished and were heading out. I watched them go as I collected my fruit salad and orange juice. "Is everyone an early riser here?" I asked Angela.

"You'll learn fast, Bella,"

"Yeah, after today's episode," I muttered. We took our seats at the same table as last night. At the moment, only Ben was there, dressed in black tights and a tucked in white T-shirt.

"Hey Ange'," he said, smiling at her.

"Hey," she said back shyly. "...are you good for class today?"

"Yeah," he said, "you? Mistress Truman pushed you pretty far yesterday."

She looked down at her bowl, "I thought no one had noticed." They lapsed into to a silence. Not exactly awkward, but more like both of them were waiting for each other. I tried not to grin as I began eating my fruit salad. I was glad breakfast was light here. Dancing on a full stomach makes me feel ill.

"Hey!" Came that over-enthusiastic voice I had been sub-consciously dreading, "it's Ballet Bella!" I turned and tried to smile as Mike took his seat right next to mine, putting a bowl of muesli on the table. Like Ben, he wore black tights and a tucked in white T-shirt. "Ready for today?" He asked me.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I muttered.

"Don't worry, I'll be with you all the way," he assured me.

"Mike," chastised Angela, "I'm sure she'll ask if she needs a faithful spaniel trotting around after her. Come on Bella, let's go." We stood and left.

"Thanks," I said as we walked up to the first floor.

"No problem," she said, "Mike takes 'nice' just a little bit too far sometimes."

"Agreed. So where are we going first?" The knot in my stomach was tightening. I pulled my schedule out of my cardigan pocket. _8.30 – 11.00am: Technique, Studio Eight _"You are in my class, right?"

"Yeah, of course," she said, "for most things. Are you music level one or two?"

"Two," I replied. I'd gotten to choose that for myself when my registration forms came through. I was alright at piano, and, more importantly, I got rhythms easily.

"Damn, I'm in one," said Angela.

We walked down the same corridor I'd gone down last night, when I'd seen Edward. I looked to that last door on the left, somehow thinking he might be there, but of course now it was just a normal room, with dancers pouring into it. We reached the room marked 'Eight' and went in. It was a pretty normal studio, complete with barres and an upright black piano. The floors were shiny and polished, the lace curtains of the large windows pinned back to the white walls. The front and right side wall were full mirrors. Above the mirrors on the front wall was the Academy Crest. The Crest of Marcus Vigernon, as I found out later. It was in every classroom.

The teacher wasn't here yet. I pulled my ballet shoes out of their bag and sat down to put them on. Pointe shoes were always both a burden and a gift. A burden because they gave me horrible blisters and when I was tired, they hung off my feet like bricks...but when I danced in them...the extra height, the grace of them...it was like I was something more than just myself when I danced in them. And then of course there was the fact that I could do something most people couldn't. Of course, that wasn't the case here. Right now, all the other girls were lacing up their pointes as well, and they were just as proficient as me at it.

I glanced at mine; they were covered in the traditional pale pink satin, the ribbons winding delicately around the bottom of my legs. I'd had them for a few of months now, and they were less than perfect. The fabric was wearing down to reveal the toe box, where my toes were supported. I knew I'd have to get new ones. These were the same ones I'd used for my audition three months ago. God, so much had happened since then.

I tried to think of menial things, like what leo I'd wear tomorrow, as I stretched. The nerves in my stomach were coiled up tight. It was the unknown that frightened me. I didn't know if I would be able to keep up with everyone, if my late entrance into the world of ballet would show up clearly in this prestigious place. It was different when I was in Forks. In Forks I'd been in the advanced class. But that was because Forks was too small to have a true advanced class, like the seniors here. But to be placed in the bottom class in the school was a hit to me, even when I knew I wasn't really that good.

I sighed and shook my head, trying to rid it of such thoughts. I started trying to play out a tune in my head. Of course it had to be Claire de Lune. Nothing else worked...but then after watching Edward Masen dance to it, it had taken on a whole new meaning, one which I wasn't entirely familiar with. Right now I needed familiar.

"Good Morning Class!" Came a loud voice. A woman was walking in, dressed in a long sleeved prune coloured leotard and long black peasant skirt. Her dark brown hair was done up in a high, regal bun. She was followed by a thin man with studious black glasses. He took up his place at the piano without hesitation. The woman, however, stood at the front of the room, her lined face smiling darkly. Everyone stood up. I was quick to do the same.

"Good morning Madam Cox," everyone chorused, curtsying or bowing. I looked around me. I probably shouldn't have been surprised, what with the room inspections and 'Masters' and 'Madams'. It was kind of cute...

"Alright, everyone to the Barres. Mister Woolston if you please," she indicated to the pianist. He started up a medium, plonky tune. Everyone hurried to the Barres. I felt my heart swell in anticipation. It was good to be back in the studio. "And a one two three four," Madam counted, "and a Demi plie in first if you please. And down two three four and up two three four."

I lowered down easily, my legs bending effortlessly, and then up again, feeling the happy pull of my leg muscles. "Grande plie and down two three four and up two three four. Now four more if you please." She began to walk round the class. "Pick up your arm if you please, Miss. Stanley and now tendus in front in one two three four and side two three four and back two three four. And again. Keep those heads up!"

We continued on and on, the simple exercises that every technique class begins with. The barre lesson went on for a good twenty minutes more before we got to Pointe. "Now ladies plie in two three four and up on the Pointe two three four and down to fourth two three four and up again two three four." I was onto my platforms and back easily, relieved that I hadn't failed to get up like I used to.

We continued on the barre for almost half the lesson. It was near the end of the barre exercises when Madame Cox drifted over to me, watching as I did arabesques to the best of my ability. It was supposedly simple – just one leg up behind me, but en Pointe things were a bit more challenging. "Keep that arm long," she instructed, walking round me. "Chin up, very nice, very good. You're the new one, Bella Swan?"

"Yes, Madam," I said as I came down from the arabesque.

"Hm, very nice," she just repeated, and went to the next person.

Feeling my confidence rise slightly, we went onto the centre, where there was no barre to hold on to. Like before, the combinations were simple and then got harder. Much harder, but I seemed to be keeping up. I was tired, though. The longest lessons I had were an hour and half at a time. This was two and half, and Madame Cox's commands were unrelenting.

For the last few combinations, Madame Cox showed us the combinations and then called us up in sixes so that we had enough space. "None of you are getting this! It's four steps then pique left and right then and step turn step turn and two steps grand jete and two steps grande pirouette, then end in an arabesque, left leg back." She clapped her hands, "Come on, better this time!"

I somehow ended up in the front row with Lauren on my right and Jessica on my left. "Alright and a one two..." I stepped up to point, then did those tiny steps across the floor, my arms rising and falling, then two quick steps out on either side. Then I launched into a leap, feeling the air whoosh past me. I felt so free! "Keep those legs strong Miss. Mallory! Very nice Miss. Swan! And now a step turn, step turn step turn, and into the pirouette. Good keep it going and arabesque!"

I let my leg out behind me, balancing on just the toes of my right foot. "Now hold it, hold it!" I heard Lauren drop away on my left. "Hold it! Hold it girls!" My leg felt sore, but I toughened my resistance, reminding myself to breathe. I heard the others break behind me, but I held on, breathing in and out, in and out.

"Ow!" I heard Jessica cry. The piano stopped abruptly.

"Keep holding it, Miss. Swan," commanded Madame Cox quickly, taking no notice of Jessica. I looked in the mirror, something I strangely didn't do very often, and saw that she was on the ground, holding her ankle.

Madame Cox gave me an analysing look, as if she was trying to figure me out. I just tried to stay standing, unnerved by her stare. Eventually, as if she'd decided something, she snapped her fingers, "Mister Woolston continue playing." The pianist started up again. "Slower this time, if you please, adage, adage" he slowed down into a flowing tune. "Alright Miss. Swan, let me see you to turn, keep your posture, yes, that's it, all the way round," my leg was getting extremely sore here, "and now down into fourth," I lowered, remembering to keep my composure, even though I wanted to clunk it down and go have a break. "Alright now into a front arabesque, raising your arms. And a back arabesque, same leg. Very nice. And now step to your left," I did so, "now let's try a developpe."

She took me through several more moves, some I hadn't even done before, but managed to perform. When the music finally finished, my class clapped from behind. I blushed a bright red. "Well done, Miss. Swan," said Madame Cox with a short, probably rare smile. "Alright!" She said, turning to everyone else, "class dismissed."

Instead of leaping up and charging out the door like a normal class would, everyone stood straight – aside from Jessica, who was still on the floor.

"Thank you, Madame Cox," they chorused again, with the same curtsies and bows. Realizing I was right in her line on sight, I quickly did the same, feeling like a right idiot. Then everyone started packing up. I went over to Jess, who was already being helped by Lauren and Ben.

"Hey are you okay?" I asked.

Lauren turned her snarky face to mine. "Don't need you here, show off," I rolled my eyes.

"It's just a twisted ankle," supplied Ben, with an apologetic smile for Lauren's bitterness.

"Right," I said.

Angela and I then finally sat down together to take off our Pointe shoes. "You were amazing, Bella," she said, beaming at me, "No one else could get that combination right. And Madame Cox hardly ever takes an interest in someone like that."

I couldn't help but smile. After the morning's stress, I realized I might not have as much to worry about. As we walked out, Mike patted me on the back, "really, that was great Bella. I wasn't sure when you first got here, but now I see you're a great dancer."

"Uh...thanks?" Wow, that's really a lovely thing to say... 'I thought you were going to be crap but you were actually okay.' Mike didn't notice my slightly-pissed off look, and kept talking until Tyler drew him away to go to their conditioning class.

I pulled my cardigan back on and we made our way down to the gymnastics centre. Lauren and Ben were helping Jessica down the stairs. "We have our own physiologist and doctor," Angela told me, "they'll sort her out."

Having never done gymnastics before, I was at a loss to know what to do. Angela had to help me through pretty much everything. The gymnastics teacher, Master Abrego – a Spaniard – was just as unforgiving as Madame Cox, and made me do things again and again until I got them half way 'perfecta'. I came out of that class half dead. My arms screaming from thousands of handstands and wobbly cartwheels.

After gymnastics, we had a short twenty minute break to have a snack and a toilet break. It went far too quickly.

The day went on and on, with the only reprieve being a music class. Otherwise, I was on my feet the whole time. I had never felt so worn out. After music, we went on to Character Dance – pretty much ballet, but focussed more on the attitude and character within the dance. They were in the middle of rehearsing a traditional Scottish dance, and I was far behind. After character, we went into another studio for contemporary. Having only taken strictly classical lessons, I wasn't used to the bending, waving arms and more modern music. We were wearing normal flats, which I suppose was a relief after Madame Cox's Pointe class.

The teachers took no pity on me if I didn't know something, and I learnt quickly to just muddle on and not ask questions. There was no 'first day of school' kindness or introductions. Some teachers didn't even notice the new addition.

When we finally got round to lunch, I was drained. Ben, Lauren, Tyler and Mike were already at the table when Angela and I got there, carrying our chicken salads and water. "So what have we got next?" I asked Angela, stabbing a bit of salad with my fork.

"Ballet History," she grumbled, "highlight of my day."

"Sounds dull,"

"It is," Tyler assured me.

Lunchtime passed quickly, with Mike's enthusiastic blather and Lauren's snarky looks. Every so often I would glance over at Emmet Cullen and his friends. I envied them. They were all my age, and yet here I was sitting with these guys. I could only have an interesting conversation with Angela or Ben, though he was really quiet. I hadn't had many friends in Forks; between ballet and homework and school, I hadn't really had a lot of time for a social life.

Ballet history passed with excruciating slowness. Even the teacher wasn't that enthusiastic about teaching it. I sat there next to Angela, bored as hell. It was half way through when I glanced at my schedule.

_3.45 – 5.30 Pas de Deux/partner class._

I shot up straight in my seat. "Angela!" I whispered hurriedly. It took her a moment to get out of her bored doze.

"What?"

"I've never done partners before!"

"Don't worry, it's fun," she whispered back. "Lots of lifts and pirouettes and stuff. And it's nice with a guy holding you."

"Angela, I haven't even _kissed _a guy. Let alone let him do all those arabesque lifts and stuff," my heart rate was coming close to breaking point, "I mean, his hands are like..._there._"

"Bella," she put a hand on my shoulder, "you just have to be professional about it. Whoever it is, he's just your partner. You'll be fine. And we don't do those sort of lifts all the time."

"Oh God, I put my head on the desk."

The history class suddenly sped up, and I found myself sitting in yet another studio, tying up my Pointe shoes. "You'll be fine, Bella," Angela was saying, "don't worry about it." But the nerves from this morning were coiled tight in my stomach once more. I didn't know how to dance that close to someone else...I wasn't used to having the restrictions of someone else close to me...oh god, oh god, oh god! "Bella breathe."

But then Mike walked over to us, "Hey Bella, I guess since Jessica's not here we'll have to go together." He smiled at me, as if he expected me to be joyous. I just stared at him.

"I can't – "

"Good Afternoon Class!"

My head snapped round, recognizing that deep, rich voice.

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_I had been planning to go on, but this took me too long to finish, so we end on a cliffie :D_

_Please Review!_


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! I'm baaack!

I seriously didn't think I would get this out today. My computer has crashed five times. Arg!

Thank You so much for the reviews, they certainly helped me get a good old fashioned pen and paper and try and write

(I read the reviews _before _my laptop crashed)

Keep 'em coming. I am going to try for two chapters before Monday, so I will need be needing an ego boost!

As requested, this chapter is...relatively longish kind of sort of thing...yeah, so be thankful I didn't leave it on a cliffie,

because there were so many places where I thought "Hmmm, shall I be extremely mean and evil?" but hey, aren't I such an angel? Yeah? ...no...

Alright so enjoy! And then review!

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Edward Masen. He strode into the studio, wearing a black t-shirt tucked into black sweatpants. He stood in front of the class, his eyebrows raised as they curtsied, "Good Afternoon, Sir." I stayed stock still.

"You didn't tell me Edward Masen was taking this class!" I hissed to Angela.

"He's not," she replied, "Madame Wright is, but he's kind of like her apprentice. She's always late, so he ends up taking the classes half the time."

"Good Afternoon," he replied, his voice like rough velvet. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the class, "Yesterday's class was not up to standard, despite what Madame Wright said. I will make sure as hell that you don't go for the end of term assessment unless you are atthe standards, and I have yet to see a single pair that is." He eyed the class, "Don't screw around. Now positions please!"

Everyone hurried to their partners. Ben shyly offered Angela his hand, which she took with badly concealed eagerness. On the other side of the room, Lauren and Tyler were eyeing each other up as they got into position, Lauren seemed to be into it a lot more than Tyler. My coiled stomach returned as I remembered just what this class was for.

Only Mike and I were left without partners. He coughed, going up to Edward, who was leaning against the piano, talking to the accompanist, "um, excuse me, sir, can I please go with Bella today? Jessica twisted her ankle in tech."

"Bella?" Edward questioned, turning around.

Mike pointed to where I stood, trying to look small. Edward's authoritative gaze flicked to me.

Suddenly, my memory was thrown back to last night, when I'd seen him looking so open with his emotions. Every frustration, every happiness playing out on his face. Now it wasn't like that. Now he was all business, the Edward Masen that the world saw; confident, smart and, I had to admit it, kind of cold.

"She's new," supplied Mike. Oh God, please say no, please say no. I can sit out, I can sit out...Edward scrutinized me and my shy expression closely before slowly nodding. He pushed off the piano and stood.

Mike beckoned me over. I hesitantly walked across the room to him. Easily, he had his hands on my waist and was standing very close behind me. I had a sickening clunk in my stomach. Oh God... "Alright," said Edward, "I want nice clean échappés. Mrs. Gerran," he cued the pianist, "if you please." She started up a nice flowing tune. "And plie down two three four," I shakily bent my knees out. Mike gripped my waist, making it harder to go down. It felt so wrong to have his hands on me... "and to Pointe!" On reflex, I snapped up onto my platforms, but Mike's hard grasp on me made sure that I couldn't rise up, and so I couldn't stabilize and slid back down to flat.

"You can do it, Bella," whispered Mike.

"It's just new to me," I replied. That was true enough. I figured that having a guy's hands gripping you like that meant you needed even more force than usual to get up...it still didn't feel right, though.

"And again!" Called Edward, "Plie down two three four and to Pointe! Hold it there for four and down very good, and – "

He and the piano cut off simultaneously as the door swung open. A rather rotund looking lady shuffled in. "Good Afternoon class!" She called out with a careless wave of her hand. She pulled out a stool from the corner of the room and plopped herself down on it.

"Good Afternoon Madame Wright," people curtsied, but the atmosphere in the room had a taste a bored disappointment in it. Next to me, a girl and her partner exchanged tired glances.

"She's Madame Wright," Mike informed me. I bit back the snarky response of 'no, really?' and instead looked at my teacher. She looked about forty, with spots and wrinkles on her kind of pudgy face. She was dressed in dark pink suit which was too small and strained round her legs. Her feet were squeezed into some gold stiletto heels.

"Ah, Edward, you best get the door for me, dear," Edward, who had been helping a girl with her footwork, grudgingly stood up and shut the door. He went to lean dully against the piano. Madame Wright shuffled on her stool. "Okay, so where were we up to? Echappés? Right, well we've done those so many times before. Let's move on to some promenades, shall we? Gents, you know the drill. We'll begin with just holding the leg up."

This time, I was thankful for Mikes instruction as he told me, "so you just drawn a circle with your toe, and then step and arabesque." I nodded uncertainly. I really needed to see it first, "don't worry," he assured me, "I'll be holding you the entire time."

"Right," I said quietly.

Madame Wright swayed on her stool in time to the piano. "And a one and a two and a three four and circle and step and one." It was a sloppy movement which got me halfway up by the time she'd said 'one'. "And again..."

Mike prepared to hold me again, but I didn't bother to move, and instead watched the couple next to me. I tried to commit her smooth transition of balance before Madame Wright counted us in for another one. This time I did it, circle with the toe, then step then step to Pointe. As my leg went up, Mike gripped my waist harder, and I emitted a little grunt as his nails dug into my belly. Neither Mike nor Madame Wright noticed, but Edward Masen heard and sharply turned to me, seeing my position, seeing me trying to conceal the look of pain in my face. He was just about to say something when Madame Wright clapped her hands.

"Right! Now let's get to the promenade. So circle step up and arabesque and then turn her round. Alright on one two three four and hold it! And now step and turn her step and turn her step and turn her step," Mike stepped into my lifted leg, slightly skewing it, before twisting my hips and stepping further in behind me. I gulped, having trouble finding breath. He wasn't rough, exactly, but I just couldn't get used to the feeling of someone else moving me like he was...it just didn't feel right. So this was pas de deux; no exhilaration, just uncomfortable hands and a little pain.

I hid that pain better this time, though, so that Edward didn't say anything. I had to prove that I was strong enough. That I didn't need someone to tell people to go soft on me. If this was ballet, then so be it.

We did 'promenades' again and again, each time Mike awkwardly turned me round and round. Then we went on to other moves, each one I found difficult and uncomfortable. Mike helpfully explained them as we went, but I preferred to stand and watch – if not for understanding the move, then for the relief of not having Mike's hands on me.

Finally, Madame Wright decided we'd had enough of that. "Okay, everyone to the back of the room. We're going to do a very simple combination." 'We' clearly meaning 'the students' as she hadn't gotten off that stool for the whole lesson. We headed to the back, and I ensured that we weren't in the first group of three couples to go up. I had to watch...I had to ready myself. "So I want courus for eight, then step down to fourth for a pirouette then two steps and arabesque and then..." she thought for a second, then said the one thing that I was dreading above all others, "lift. Lift from the arabesque and then promenade. Then finish in second."

"Courus, pirouette, arabesque, lift, promenade," Mike recited. Then he turned to grin at me. "This will be fun."

I didn't say anything, but looked to the front. I was going to be sick.

"Alright? Okay, piano," Madame Wright ordered. "First group up and courus courus courus courus and pirouette and arabesque and lift! Yes! And then twirl her round!" I stared in sheer terror as I watched Ben put a hand on her inner thigh and wrapped the other round her waist and lifted. Oh God...I couldn't do this...I just couldn't... "And next group up and courus, nice flowing arms and pirouette and arabesque and twirly twirly twirly and land in second. Good!"

I couldn't control my breathing. The groups kept going, one by one. We were in the last one, but God I just couldn't...it got down to the group before us. Mike readied himself behind me, putting his hands back on my waist. His grasp was tight. I can't do this I can't do this I can't... "And next group up! And courus..." suddenly I was up on Pointe, my arms shakily going up. Mike's hands stayed on my waist. I stared straight at a spot on the floor, as my mind screamed no!

As we went for the pirouette, Mike held me even tighter, and as he spun me roughly around, I wobbled on my Pointe, no longer trying to keep the pain off my face. And then I step and went up again for the arabesque. His arm slid round my waist and squeezed. The air was shoved out of me. I looked up in horror, and met a sharp green pair of eyes. His hand was about to go on my inner thigh for the lift. I couldn't breathe...I had no air...

"STOP!" Edward yelled, slamming his fist on the piano. Mike unceremoniously dropped me, and I slipped down to the floor, gasping for breath. Edward strode over, his eyes dark and dangerous. "You _never," _he growled to Mike, "hold your partner like that."

"Mister Masen..." began Madame Wright, finally getting off her stool.

"Shut up!" He yelled at her, then swung back to Mike, "do you know how dangerous that is? She couldn't _breathe, _Mister Newton!"

Mike looked stunned and afraid, like a rabbit caught in the head lights. Edward towered over him by a good few inches, and his muscles were tiny in comparison to Edward's. "I...I was just..."Actually, he looked like he might cry...

"You were what, Mister Newton?" Demanded Edward.

Mike just stood there looking terrified.

Edward sighed heavily and squatted down to me. "Are you okay?" He asked me, his rough velvet voice low, so that only I could hear.

"I'm fine," I told him softly. He held out a pale white hand. I took it. It was as if the warmth of his hand spread over my entire being. I suddenly felt safer...calmer. My heart slowed for the first time since the start of this class. Actually, it may have stopped altogether at the thought that Edward was here, holding my hand...I avoided his eyes as he gently pulled me up, not wanting him to see the trust and surprise in my expression.

He finally let go, and turned to the rest of the class, who were still looking a little dumb struck at what had just happened – though I'm not sure it was my suffocation or Edward Masen getting angry then holding my hand. Edward, calmer now, looked slowly round the semi-circle of students.

"When you dance with a partner, you must learn to calculate how much of your strength is needed," his voice was quiet, quiet and almost entrancing, "both the lady and the gentleman must understand each other's needs perfectly. Which is why we shouldn't be doing lifts," he turned briefly to glare at the bewildered Madame Wright. It was clear who was in control now. His eyes then went to me. His voice grew softer, "until we know our partners." I had the tingling feeling that those words had a double meaning...but then I blew it off. That was ridiculous.

He flicked back to the rest of the class, become business like again. "There is no need to hold your partner any tighter than to simply steady her." He turned to me and held out his hand again, "May I, Miss. Bella?" The surge in my chest as he spoke my name was so strong that I felt myself nodding before I'd even thought of it. Even when I did...I couldn't convince myself I didn't want to.

Edward positioned himself behind me, facing the class. They backed off to give us space, amazed expressions everywhere. I guess Edward didn't demonstrate in class very often...

He placed his hands gently on my waist. I stiffened, "relax," he whispered from behind me. I did, his presence comforting, "For courus," he spoke louder to the class, "your hands aren't even needed. If, for the sake of appearances, the hands are on the lady's waist, they only need to rest there. Mrs. Gerran, some adage please." She nodded with a soft smile and began the first chords of a beautiful, flowing tune. "And up," he whispered to me. I échappéd smartly up onto Pointe, my arms rising softly up and down as I made the tiny steps called courus, my shoes making hollow noises as I came forward. Edward's hands lay perfectly steady as he stepped forward with me. His presence made everything feel perfect as I came down into fourth.

"And pirouette," he told me. I spun, his hands just giving me one firm and gentle twist. I kept that pirouette longer than I had ever done before. Edward's hands ringing around my waist. And then as I slowed, I gracefully stepped down, Edward held me as I fluidly stepped forward and lifted my leg. I felt his warm breath on my back. "Can you do this?" He asked me softly.

"Yes," I whispered in a heartbeat. There was no question of it. His arms simultaneously twined around my waist and thigh. Suddenly, I was high in the air, above his head. The gasps of my class were blurred as my heart grew with exhilaration. My arms naturally came up above me, my fingertips just a metre from the high ceiling. My front leg bent, my other stayed totally straight. I was flying! I was flying! My arms stretched out behind me as Edward turned me gently around. I raised my chin, feeling free as I never had before. I felt beautiful.

Eventually, it was as if we both thought the same thought – that this could not go on forever, that this had to end, and Edward began to bring me gently down, still turning me as we went.

As the last chords of the tune were played, my satin bound toes touched the floor once more. Edward just stared at me, his hands still on my waist, his feet still in third. His god like face just gazed down at me, and I gazed back, right into the deep depths of his emerald eyes.

I don't know how long it lasted...but I knew that I could travel forever in those eyes...like before, it was as if we shared a thought when we both snapped out of it.

I returned, or fell, rather, back into the dance studio at _Force de la Beauté__. _

Edward looked at his position, at his hands resting on my waist, his body so close to mine. He suddenly wrenched his hands off me and turned his back.

"Class dismissed!" He growled, and walked out of the studio, yanking the door shut behind him. Madame Wright wobbled angrily out after him. The pianist, Mrs. Gerran just shook her head and smiled at me before collecting her sheet music and leaving.

I turned round to face the huddle of classmates. I could feel the two hot red slashes across my cheeks

"Oh. My. God!" Cried one girl, breaking the eerie silence. "You just danced with Edward Masen!" She squealed.

"That looked so _romantic!" _Another girl said energetically.

"Oh please, Violet," drawled Lauren, regarding me snidely, "you saw the way he walked out. She clearly wasn't good enough for him."

"Ha! As if you'd be any better!" Exclaimed Violet.

"Oi!" She growled, "I wasn't the one trying to get his attention, was I?" She stepped up to me, "You think you have a chance with him? Because you really, really don't."

I rolled my eyes, glaring at her "If dancing with someone means that you think you have a chance with someone then you're deluding yourself with Tyler, Lauren." She blushed an angry red.

"You fucking dare – "

"Lauren!" Angela hurried in between the two of us. "Quit it, you've no good reason to act like this!"

She just snorted, "Oh come on, Angela! You are always so damned prissy! Sucking up to the new girl like a faithful little kitten. It's pathetic!" She pushed her out of the way.

Ben stepped forward at that moment, his eyes defensive. "Shut your mouth, Lauren," he snapped, "get away from her." She opened her mouth to retort, but Tyler and Ryan stepped up behind him. However many plies and leg holds we did, we danseuses would never be able to take on the danseurs. She grudgingly spun on her heel and stormed out of the studio.

The room was tense for a minute, before Eliza, who I'd briefly met last night, came and put a hand on my shoulder. "That was really beautiful, Bella," she told me, a grin on her freckled face, "Lauren was talking crap – you and Edward were so perfect."

"That was a freaky lift, though," said Violet, as she sat down to take her shoes off. We all did the same. "It was way higher than any of our level stuff."

"I know," I said, "it was a bit of a surprise."

"You looked great up there, though," Angela assured me with a pat on the back.

I blushed again, "thanks."

"God! The way you were staring at each other..." Eliza stared off dramatically into the distance.

"Oh no!" I groaned, "How long was I staring at him for?"

"Just a couple of minutes," said Angela, as if that was meant to be reassuring.

"_Minutes?" _I put a hand to my head, "I'm such an idiot."

"No, I think Mike's the idiot," said Eliza. "I can't believe he did that to you! I felt so sorry for you!"

I glanced over at him. He stood in a corner by himself, pulling on track pants with a black expression. "Poor guy," I said quietly, "he didn't mean to. I didn't tell him that he was holding me too hard."

"Yeah," agreed Angela, "you have got to communicate with your partner, you know."

I nodded, "I know...I've just never done it before. I just thought that that was how pas de deux was done."

Angela smiled and shook her head, "we're Ballerinas, Bella, not gladiators."

"Right,"

We put our shoes in our bags and headed up to our dorm.

Fortunately, Lauren had already left and Jessica must have still been at the physio. Half of my dorm was in my class, but the other ten were all in the other first year class. They were eager to find out what had been going on after Lauren had apparently stormed in here and told them I was a bitch. Fortunately, they didn't seem to believe her. Eliza went right ahead, telling the full story with a whole ounce of enthusiasm.

It was interesting to hear what it had looked like to everyone else. "It was so beautiful!" Eliza exclaimed, "Bella's pirouettes were so perfect! And ohmigod! Edward was soooo charming he offered her his hand and everything! And then when he was doing the lift - ohmi_god _he looked so hot! He had his eyes closed and he looked sooooo beautiful! And he was smiling and Jesus he was hot! God you are lucky, Bella!"

I nodded my head her way, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Edward had had his eyes closed? Again, I had the vivid flashback to last night, his eyes shut, the happiness spreading across his face...he'd been doing that when we'd danced?

I got changed quietly. It was only when I pulled down my leotard that I realized how much damage Mike had done to me. There were little crescent moons all up my belly. Red blotches surrounded each of them. I was going to have bruises by tomorrow, I knew it. Quickly I pulled on a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. I brushed my spray encrusted hair out and pulled it over one shoulder. I glanced at my clock. Dinnertime.

We all walked down together, Me, Angela, Violet and Eliza. I was worn out, and I didn't think I could face socializing. Hopefully Lauren would still be brooding.

I knew from the second I entered the dining hall that this wasn't going to be a nice quiet dinner. Straightaway, a gaggle of second year girls came up to me, "Oh my God are you and Edward Masen an item, then?" Asked one girl.

"Um, no," I replied, getting into the food line.

"But he danced with you!"

"It was just a class demonstration," I said, and turned to get my food.

By the time we'd gotten to the table, I'd been asked four times if I was going out with Edward Masen. "This is gonna get really old, really quickly."

"Gossip sucks," I muttered, "news spreads fast here, doesn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Angela agreed, sitting down. Thankfully, only Ben, Tyler and Ryan were sitting at the table. I spotted Lauren and Jessica, whose ankle was bound with sports tape, sitting at another first year table, leaning in close and occasionally throwing malicious glances at me. I rolled my eyes and went back to eating my stirfry.

"Hey Ben," Angela was saying quietly.

"Yeah?" He asked, his eyes flashing to hers.

"Uh," she looked down at her food, "thanks for sticking up for me after class."

He smiled widely, "no problem..."

"Oh and for Bella, too, of course," she added. I pretended not to hear her, but the damage was done. What a way to ruin a romantic moment! Bring in a friend!

Fortunately, they kept talking. I tuned out, giving them some privacy, and found myself caught right in the gaze of one Alice Brandon. She regarded me for a moment and smiled. It seemed like a nice smile...she turned back to her table and leaned in. Soon Emmet Cullen and Jasper and Rosalie Hale were all staring at me as well. Oh God...I blushed bright red. Our table was close enough for them to see it. Emmet broke out into loud, booming laughter, which brought a few stares. Rosalie had her eyebrow raised, scrutinizing me. Alice just smiled apologetically and whispered something to Jasper. Oh God, why was I letting them all study me?

I snapped back to my own table and became very focussed on my food. Dinner passed like that, with me staring fixedly on the plate in front of me. When Master Carlisle finally stood up and dismissed us, I had to remember that sprinting out of the room would just draw even more attention to me.

By the time Madame Esme came round to tell us it was time for bed, I had been forced to recount the story so many times, I was tired and drained. The trials not just of the last class, but of the entire day, were taking their toll on me. My toes ached, even after I'd soaked them, and my whole body felt half-dead.

As Madame Esme got everyone settled down, I lay on my bed, thinking. The day had started off bad, what with my embarrassing wake up. It had gotten significantly better with my success in Madame Cox's tech class, but then it had progressed down and down until I'd reached Mike and everything that had happened. But with Edward? I was just confused.

Now that I had time to think about it, I realized that the dancing alone was not what had made it so exhilarating...it was Edward himself. That connection we had...I couldn't stop myself from thinking about it...the way that we both knew when to go down, the way that he knew my reluctance about the lift, the way he talked to so softly, as if it was only him and me in the world at that moment...

"_You saw the way he walked out. She clearly wasn't good enough for him." _Lauren's words echoed in my head. She was right. Edward was auditioning for the _American Ballet. _Edward was a senior. Edward was Tanya's partner. Edward was well and truly out of my league. But that connection...God, I just didn't get it...how could we have that when I was nowhere near good enough for him? How could that be possible?

"Miss. Swan," Madame Esme's voice broke me out of my thoughts. She stood in the doorway, "may I have a word?"

I nodded and nervously stood up and followed her out into the corridor.

She looked at me with a worried expression, "I've been informed of what happened today in you partnering class," she said in her soft French accent. I looked down at my feet. "Bella, are you alright?" She asked me. I was surprised she used my first name. I hesitated, unsure on how to answer. "On both things," she clarified.

I glanced up at her. She knew about Edward? "He came to my office, Bella. Carlisle and I have become quite close to him in the years we've tutored him. He came to tell me that you were probably hurt from what Mister Newton did to you..." she hesitated, looking at me, "but judging by his story, I can guess that you were probably hurt twice, not once."

Tears came to my eyes. "I'm so confused!" I sobbed, before she pulled me into a hug.

"Edward is a silly boy, Bella," she murmured, rubbing my back, "we'll never know what he's really thinking, but you can always be sure that it's not what you're guessing."

* * *

So? Who's side are you on? Feeling sorry for Mike? Laughing along with Emmet? Weeping with Bella? Glaring at this screen with Lauren?

TELL ME! REVIEW!


	5. Chapter 5

Right. It's half past midnight and I seriously should be in bed.

Thank you so, SO much for the reviews!

It's been a tiring and boring week and your reviews were just the thing to drag me through it!

Also, they have spurred me into destroying four hours sleep to write this for you!

It's not edited, so I do hope I haven't written anything too bad, but I wanted to get this out because once the week starts I have very little time to have a life

(aka write, which would be considered very sad for some people)

Disclaimer (And I find this terribly exciting because I haven't done it before): Nothing's mine aside from the story line and school.

Okey dokey, so read on, and review and tell me if it's humanly possible to write coherently after eleven at night!

Enjoy and Review!

* * *

All through the night I was plagued with yesterday's events in sharp, dream-like detail. Again and again, I felt his hands on me, lifting me, letting me fly...and again and again I saw his expression turn to disgust as he snatched those hands back and left me. But being a dream, this time I made out the desperate cry: "Edward! What did I do? Edward!"

"_Bella?" _A hand shook me awake. I moaned, my eyes fluttering open. I was back in my dorm room. It was dimly lit with a few bedside lamps. It was still dark outside. Still coming out of my dream, I suddenly realised that I was being started at by nineteen pairs of eyes. "Huh?" I mumbled, sitting up. Angela's face hovered in front of me. "Uh..." she hesitated, "you were kind of yelling in your sleep."

"Oh God!" I groaned, blood rising to my cheeks. I shouldn't have been surprised; my Mom always used to tease me about my dramatic mutterings when I slept. And in a dorm room with a whole bunch of other people. Ugh! I wanted to be sucked into a vacuum and never be seen again. "What did I say?" I asked Angela nervously.

She didn't have time to answer before a mockingly high voice came in with, "'Oh, Edward, please don't go! Oh Eddie!'" I didn't need to turn around to know it was Lauren.

I cringed, "How many times?"

Angela looked away, "just a few..."

"We've been trying to wake you up for at least ten minutes," said Eliza from across the room. "Oh yeah, can I have my pillow back? I have bad aim."

I did so, picking up the pink satin pillow from beside my bed and chucking it to her. "I'm really sorry," I said to everyone. This was beyond embarrassing. Most of them were sniggering, now that they'd gotten over my waking them up from their sleep, they were seeing how funny the situation was. God, I seriously wasn't. Yeah, it's _totally _normal to have over-emotional dreams about some God of a guy who you've only know for what? Two days? And had spoken to...well, not really ever. Totally normal.

The door opened, stifling everyone's giggles as a crumple haired Madam Esme stood glaring at all of us. "Why are we up at this time?" She asked, her French accent thicker than it was in the day. She wore a deep red satin dressing gown and slippers. It was sort of comical...

"Bella's having erotic dreams and she wanted to share," said Lauren Mallory.

"Oh shut the hell up!" Snapped Violet, then slammed a hand to her mouth as she swung back to meet Madam Esme's sharp gaze.

She just looked at her in distaste before turning to the rest of us. "Go back to sleep. If there are any more disturbances you can give the cooking staff a break and wash up tomorrow's dinner."

"Yes Madam Esme," we quickly chorused.

She gave us one last doleful glance and left, shutting the door behind her.

Apparently Esme's threats were true, because no one made a sound as they slid back under their duvets and switched off their lights.

I stayed sitting in mine, scared that if I went to sleep I'd do it all over again. I cringed mentally, thinking of tomorrow. _Everyone _would know that I'd dreamt of Edward Masen..._Everyone._

I'd no sooner drifted into a mercifully dreamless sleep when Madam Esme was at the door yet again, signalling the beginning of another day. Judging by her cross face and blood red pencil skirt and blouse, she wasn't in a good mood. "Up and ready in ten minutes," she snapped, spinning on her stiletto as she walked out of the room.

"Have anymore dreams about Eddie?" Sniggered Lauren. Once again, everyone's eyes were on me.

I rolled my eyes and swung my legs out of the duvets. Suddenly a hideous pain shot through my stomach. "Ah!" I gasped, my hand flying to the bedpost to stop me from toppling.

"Bella?" Angela was at my side, worried. I stopped moving and the pain went away. I just shook my head, telling her it was nothing. "What?"

"Nothing," I told her, and stood up very carefully to get my towel. Angela raised her eyebrows in confusion but went back to her trunk. I took a deep breath through my nose. Sweet _God _that was painful. Trying to keep my midriff frozen, I hurried to the bathrooms.

Once in the shower, I nervously looked down. I swallowed. I shouldn't have been surprised, the way I'd let Mike hold me yesterday. Overnight, the red marks had darkened into dark mottled blue and grey bruises, covering my stomach and hips. I tentatively bent my back forward, then stifled a groan. God it was painful.

I hurried my shower, remembering Madam Esme's wrath, and wrapped my towel securely round me. No one could know. It would mean a day off for sure, and I couldn't have that. When I got back to the dorm, I chose a plain black leotard out of my trunk. It had short sleeves and its back didn't plunge too low, so it wouldn't show the bruises round the other side. I hated the sleeves, but all my other leos just had straps at the back.

I pulled my tights and leo on slowly, but the elastic round the seams of my tights hurt as I gently slid them up to my hips. My leo wasn't as bad, but by the time I was finished, Esme was at the door, smartly looking around for any fault. She strode up one side of the room and back down the other. This morning she flipped if a single hair was out of place. I stood tall as she finally reached me. She looked me up and down and stepped in closer. Even without her stilettos, she'd be much taller than me.

"Will you be able to do class today, Miss. Swan?" She asked me quietly, so that the others couldn't hear. A little bit of last night's motherly warmth returned to her.

I nodded quickly, but then hesitated, "...just not Pas de Deux, Madam."

She nodded, "Master Carlisle is making arrangements for a new partner for you." With one last, rather suspicious look at me, she left, this time with no joyous comment of how we were all her 'pretty flowers'.

"Hey, what was with you earlier?" Asked Violet, trotting up behind me and Angela as we headed for the stairs.

"Uh, had a creepy dream?" I answered.

"No," she said, "I meant the whole gasping thing ten minutes ago."

"Oh, right..." I tried for a smile, "cramps, you know?"

"Right," she said sympathetically. Really? I was terrible liar. But I guess no one really saw how tightly Mike had been holding me. He'd dropped me as soon as Edward had brought any attention to it. God, Edward... "Actually, what _were _you dreaming about, Bella?" Violet asked me.

"Just about the academy and stuff..." I trailed off. Clearly my lying skill had only been a temporary thing.

She giggled and raised a dark brown eyebrow, "he's gorgeous, isn't he?"

"I guess..." he was more than just 'gorgeous'...his face, so focussed and full of strong emotion...he was strikingly handsome in a way that I'd never seen anyone else...

"It's kinda sad he's stuck with Tanya," muttered Violet. My head snapped round.

"What?" I demanded, almost tripping on the stairs. "I thought they were just partners."

"That's because they _are _just partners," said Angela. "People just assume that they're going out because they're partners."

"Oh come on Ange'," groaned Violet, "they are _so _cute together. Even if she can be kind of up herself. The Ballerina and Ballerino of the school, together."

"Head Cheerleader and Quarterback," I muttered. "Perfect match."

Angela glanced at me, "hardly. All he cares about is his dancing. If Tanya wasn't up to his standards than this so called 'relationship' would be over in five seconds flat."

"Mmmmm," drawled Violet dreamily, "but I love the way he's so serious like that. And that vein that always pops out when he's thinking is so sexy."

Angela just shook her head, "honestly, Vi'."

We reached the dining hall and got in line for breakfast. "I wonder if he'll be in class today." Said Violet, taking a bowl of muesli.

"He has to be," said Angela, "its part of his education, remember?"

"Yeah, but the way he left yesterday..." she replied. I cringed mentally. I still didn't know what I'd done exactly wrong, but I guessed that it was maybe more to do with not doing anything right. Like Angela had just said; Edward had high standards. How could I, a first year who'd started ballet way too late, be able to even _see _those standards.

"Oh God," said Violet ominously, "Bella, I think you'd better brace yourself." I glanced up from pouring my orange juice. Mike Newton was coming towards me, his face looking more child-like and innocent than ever.

"Hey Bella," he said. I decided he looked a little paler as well. "Can I take something for you?" He asked me, gesturing to my glass and bowl.

"It's okay," I said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. He wasn't having it.

"Right," he said. I turned to go to the table. Angela and Violet trailed behind me. "Bella, I'm so sorry." He choked out.

"Oh, don't worry," I said. The bruises on my stomach disagreed fervently with me. "We all make mistakes."

"I'm so sorry," he repeated weakly, not seeming to have heard my words, "I really didn't mean to, and I can't believe I did it, but I'm so sorry and I never wanted to hurt you and I just can't believe – "

"Mike," I said, fearing he might work himself into a collapse. But he went on.

"And I did it in front of everyone and I must have hurt you so bad and oh God!" He glanced up at me.

"How bad is it?" He asked me, "how badly are you hurt?"

I hesitated...somehow I didn't think telling him my stomach was black and blue would solve many problems. But he took my silence badly, "Oh God, will you ever be able to dance again? Oh God, what have I done?"

"Mike..."

"I swear I didn't know I was doing it and God I didn't think and now you're hurt and you won't be able to dance and oh God I – "

"Mike!" I said loudly, making a few heads turn. Seeing his startled expression and thankfully shut mouth, I lowered my voice. "Mike, it's okay, you just made a mistake, that's all." He opened his mouth to say something, but I continued, "And I most certainly still can dance, in fact I need to finish my breakfast so that I can get to tech, so don't worry about it, okay?" Seeing his utterly downtrodden face, I put a hand on his shoulder. It was then that I noticed a pair of sharp green eyes on me.

I gave a ridiculous gasp, but they quickly flicked away. Edward Masen. He was sitting at the table with Alice Brandon and his other friends. His eyes were focused strongly on the polished wood of the table, his jaw muscle twitching. Oh God. What was it about me? Maybe I just looked funny? I'd always thought I'd looked unremarkable – brown hair, pale skin, brown eyes, slim, almost too slim figure – but then maybe he saw something else that I'd stopped noticing? Emmett Cullen made a joke and him and Jasper roared with laughter. Edward, broken from his gaze, gave a half hearted smile and began picking at his food. He looked so desolate...

"I guess, I guess..." I frowned, realising Mike was still talking to me. He baby-blue eyes looked up to mine. They were pale compared to the vibrant ones I'd just been staring into. "Did I really not hurt you?"

"It was just a mistake, Mike," I told him, trying to get that deep green out of my mind.

"Oh God, I did, didn't I?" Fearful that he might begin his frantic blather again, I gave a quick nod.

"Only a little, Mike. Just promise me you've learnt your lesson?" This approach seemed to be working a little better.

He nodded weakly. "Good, now move on. I'm sure Madam Wright can help you out with you technique."

"Master Carlisle's taken me out of Pas de Deux classes," he mumbled, staring down miserably at his plate. "He says I'm not ready for them yet."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be put back in soon, Mike," I assured him, though ashamedly I thought that Master Carlisle was probably making a good call. Mike wasn't ready. I gently patted his back as he glumly picked up his spoon.

"Um...Bella?" Violet's voice warned me once again, "might want to turn around."

I spun in my chair, and found myself staring up at none other than Tanya Denali. She was dressed in a shimmering black and gold camisole leo, her white tights mostly concealed by thigh high black legwarmers. Her strawberry blonde hair was done up in an intricately plaited bun, her pencilled eyebrows raised above two cold hazel eyes. "I take it you're Bella Swan?"

"Yes," I said, frowning. Sitting down was making me feel somewhat vulnerable. I slipped out of my chair and stood. My belly screamed at the movement, but I forced my face to stay blank.

I realized that every table had turned quiet.

Tanya looked me up and down. "Hmm, so not only do you have erotic dreams about my partner and dance with him, but you're also the one I caught spying on him the other day."

Unwillingly, I blushed, two angry splotches on either cheek. She'd said it loud enough for the whole hall to hear. "I wasn't spying. I was observing."

"Edward doesn't like people watching him," she snapped.

"Then why doesn't he say it for himself?" I asked, trying to inconspicuously glance at him. He, unlike everyone else, was looking away, his gaze frozen at a spot on his table.

"Tss," Tanya's wild hiss brought me back to her. She'd seen where I'd been looking, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? For Edward to talk to you?"

I rolled my eyes. God this girl was immature, "May I ask why you're being so obnoxious to me? Or do you welcome all new people to the school by public interrogation?"

She glared at me, "Edward is my partner, and he doesn't dance with anyone other than me. Particularly not a first year."

"What, so you think I forced him to?" I asked her, raising my own eyebrows. "That's a little farfetched. He doesn't seem the sort to be forced."

She put a hand on her hip, "You don't know anything about Edward." She took a step forward, coming way too close for comfort. "Edward's not even – "

"Tanya," His strong voice rung out through the hall. He was standing by his table, his eyes fixed on Tanya, not wavering once to me. "Stop this." Tanya frowned, looking at him. He walked towards us. "Miss. Swan is one of my students and I was demonstrating with her. Nothing more." He didn't even recognize my existence. He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. But of course, I was close enough. "Tanya, what the hell are you doing?"

"Edward, she – "

His face darkened, "This is between you and me and nobody else. Particularly not the entire school." He put a hand on the small of her back, straightening up. "Now let's go."

Snapped an angry glance at me before strutting out of the hall, gripping Edward's hand. The hall was filled with an eerie silence. Even the teachers were quiet. Only Master Carlisle sat demurely, sipping his tea and reading his newspaper as if nothing had happened. Madam Esme sat with her hands folded in her lap, quietly watching the doorway where quick footsteps were slowly fading from.

"Dear God! Little Eddie's got himself a conflict!" Emmett Cullen roared, slapping his hand on the table. This seemed to release everyone from their hypnotised stares and they all began whispering excitedly amongst one another.

"Jeez," whistled Eliza, blowing a lock of red hair off her face. "That was weird." I sunk back down into my chair. God, what had just happened?

"Bella's in dangerous waters now," said Tyler with a grin.

I shook my head, "I think I've already drowned in them. She's going to kill me."

"But you only danced with him." Exclaimed Angela.

"That's like saying, 'You only spent the day with Brad Pitt.'" Said Violet. She looked at me with a new respect in her eyes. "You're freaking amazing!" She told me. "It's taken me a whole month plus the summer course to just get a few of the crappy second year guys to even know my name. Now the whole school knows who you are! You're famous, Bella! And this is only what, your third day here?" She sighed, "You're a legend."

"Oh please," muttered Lauren, who I hadn't even realised was at the table, "who wants to be known for erotic dreams and getting into pre-lost arguments with Tanya Denali? She killed Bella up there." She smirked at me, "you just stood there like an idiot."

"Thanks, Lauren," I sighed, "your voice at these times is so reassuring to me."

"Anytime," she muttered, standing up with her plate and leaving.

I put my elbows on the table, holding my head in my hands. I felt the same pain as yesterday, at seeing that total distaste in Edward's eyes. What was wrong with me? What had I done so wrong yesterday to offend him? Why was he ignoring me?

"Bella," Angela put a friendly hand on my wrist, "I know she can be kind of intimidating, but..."

"No, that's not it," I said, raising my head. I pushed back my chair and picked up my plate. The day had just begun but already I was worn out and confused. I dumped my dishes at the counter and left the hall. I felt many pairs of eyes on my back as I left. Great. Like Violet had told me. I was famous.

* * *

Please review!

Tell me what you think of Miserable Mike, Testy Tanya, Bewildered Bella and Enraged Edward (Oh yeah, alliteration!)


	6. Chapter 6

One moment please: ...

Thank you.

Right, now that I have all the pent up 'argness' out of my system, I shall proceed.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. You have dragged me out of the depths of despair to write this chapter.

And I'm not being melodramatic...well, a little, but I have had a truly horrible week, and I am now _very _tired.

Fortunately, it is a long weekend, so maybe you can expect another chapter (fingers crossed)

Sweet goodness, I need a coffee.

Okay, I'll get a coffee, you can read this.

ENJOY! And review!

* * *

The studio was mercifully empty when I got there. Everyone was still finishing up breakfast. I warmed myself up, jogging to heat my muscles before I sat down on the polished wood floor and stretched my leg out. Tucking one leg in, I reached out to touch the other's toes, then reeled back. My stomach! I held back a groan of pain. I had to ignore it! Slowly, I bent forward, just daring my stomach to protest. Finally, my fingers grasped my toes, and I could only feel the satisfying pull of tendons.

In the quiet of the studio, I held my stretch and thought out what had just happened. Clearly Tanya had found out about my sleep talking from someone. That meant that everyone knew. And that meant Edward would know. Edward would know that I'd _dreamt _about him.

Blood rushed to my cheeks, even though there was no one around. It was beyond embarrassing...I'd never be able to look him in the eyes again. But then, why would that even matter? He was a senior, and he had very little to do with me, even if he was my teacher. If he could ignore me in the close proximity we were in today, then why not in class?

But somehow...somehow it hurt to think that I would never get to talk to him again, that he would ignore me until he moved on to the American Ballet or wherever, and I would never have the chance to know him...

My head snapped up. I realized it. That was what I wanted. Ever since I had watched him dance that night in the studio, I had been entranced by Edward Masen. Entranced by the intricate emotions constantly changing on his face as he'd danced, by his intense concentration and then his enthralling look of freedom. I wanted to know him. I wanted to know the source of all those emotions, I wanted to work through the complex emerald maze I had fallen into when I had stared into his eyes yesterday. _Edward Masen_...his name echoed through my mind, a constant call of curiosity. I had to know him.

But then the door opened, and the rest of my class poured in, chattering and laughing. It didn't take me long to work out what most of them were talking about.

"And the way she was glaring at her, I was like Oh my God, be freaking careful!"

"Edward Masen looked so sexy with that angry face on. God I could _marry _him!"

"That was such a freaking joke, man. That Tanya girl's hot, though."

And of course they soon spotted me, sitting there on the floor. I hurriedly stood up as the girls flocked to me, forgetting my sore belly. I bit my lip hard against the pain as they clamoured about me.

"Oh my God! You were so freaking brave!"

"Tanya's gonna kill you, if Edward lets her,"

"That was so funny how she knew about your dreams,"

"I can't believe she _talked _to you!" Squealed one girl, excitedly grasping my hands as if we were life-long best friends. "Did you know who she was?" She jumped up and down.

I pulled my hands gently away from her. "Yes," I told them, and reached down for my shoe bag. They really did seem much younger than me at the moment.

"And what did you think of Edward?" Another girl asked me, her face lit like a Christmas tree with excitement. "God! And you danced with him only yesterday! She was _so _pissed!" She said it like it was a good thing...

"Edward seemed so pissed at _her_," said the girl's friend, "I bet he gives her a stern talking to!"

"Are they even an item yet?"

"Yeah, totally, I mean, they're so close with their dancing and stuff. They're so good! I remember watching them last year..." They went off on a long tangent of memories about the appearance of Edward at the Summer course, and finally drifted away to a corner to stretch.

I sighed with relief, shaking my head and sitting back down to tie on my Pointe shoes. I seriously didn't need any of this. God, I certainly hadn't expected it. When I'd auditioned for _Force de la Beauté__, _prestigious Academy of Ballet, I had stupidly not been expecting all the ordinary high school gossip crap to be there. It may be ballet-themed, but it was just as bad.

Angela, Violet and Eliza came in as I was winding the last ribbon around my calf. They sat with me and began their stretches. After my abrupt departure from the dining hall, they must have decided it would be best not to talk about the whole confrontation between me and Tanya, and instead chatted away about their aches and pains from yesterday's classes. It wasn't long before Madame Cox strode in, followed in once again by the meek Mister Woolston, who quietly slid into his piano seat.

Madame Cox clapped her hands together. "Quiet if you please!" She called in her rich voice. Today she wore a long burgundy skirt with a black, long sleeved leotard. Her dark hair done up in another high bun. "Good morning class!" She said once we'd all quietened.

Scrambling up, I managed to be just a few beats behind the others with a, "Good Morning, Madame Cox."

She surveyed the class. Her eyes came to rest on me. She frowned, giving me a once over, and then turned back to the class. "To the barre, please!" She ordered, clapping her hands again. "Mister Woolston." She nodded to him, and he began playing. "And we begin with plies in one two three four..."

What had seemed easy to me just yesterday was now extremely painful. Out of habit, I clenched my stomach in a plie, to keep my core strong, but of course today that wasn't the best idea. I tried to keep the pain from showing on my face. I could feel Madame Cox's eyes on me as we went through the same tondues and ronde de jambes as yesterday. "Alright swap legs and to the front two three four!"

It wasn't long before her inspection round the studio came to me. "Should you be in practise today, Miss. Swan?" She asked me. Fortunately, tondues didn't call for too much pressure on my belly, so I was able to feign confidence.

"Yes, Madame," I told her. I shouldn't have been surprised. Madame Esme or Madame Wright had probably given all the teachers instructions on what had happened.

She eyed me with a sceptical stare for longer than I was comfortable with. She was probably seeing right through my mask. "Very well," she said eventually. "Now arabesques, if you please!" She returned to her place at the front of the room.

I swung up my leg into an arabesque. I let out a little grunt as the pain hit me once again. My eyes flicked to where Madame Cox stood, but fortunately she was looking over at Violet, who'd lost her balance on the hold. I sighed in relief, trying to let myself relax out of the pain, though my knuckles were white on the barre.

The class slowly went by, with almost every move sending a wave of pain through me, but I began to expect the pain, and it became part of the structure of each move. When Madame Cox finally ended the class, I almost collapsed on the floor. It had taken up far too much of my energy just keeping the expression off my face.

As Angela and I walked to gymnastics, I gave myself an inner pep talk. I _had _to ignore it. I _had _to stop thinking about it, or it would get in the way of my performance and my teachers would notice. And I didn't want them to notice that I was 'injured', because they would probably go against my attending classes today, and I was already so far behind. The only class I would consent to missing was pas de deux; I couldn't face having another person's hands on me again, not with my midriff as tender as it was.

_But Edward's hands wouldn't cause me any pain..._I shook the thought from my head. Of course they would. Any person performing a lift would have to put some grip on my stomach...but then, remembering how easy everything had felt with him, I could almost kid myself into believing it.

Wait, I reminded myself, thinking about dancing with Edward was ridiculous, after all that Tanya had said to me this morning, I shouldn't have been going anywhere near the subject of Edward dancing with me in the future.

"Oh God, Master Abrego's got the rings out!" Moaned Angela. I realized we'd entered the gymnastics hall. Sure enough, Master Abrego, the toned Spaniard, stood holding two rings suspended from the high ceiling.

"Hello, class," he said in his thick Spanish accent. "Today we work on your upper body strength, sí?"

"Master Abrego," groaned Eliza, "we're already working on this in body conditioning."

He just laughed, he goateed chin lifting with his face. "Then you, Señorita Price, should be very good at it!" He clapped his hands, back to the serious gymnastics instructor. "Vamos!"

"Jeez," muttered Violet grumpily, "the rings aren't even part of female gymnastics! This sucks!"

I shrugged, "I guess we better just do it." It seemed that my pep-talk had worked. I didn't exactly pass through the class with flying colours. Master Abrego wanted nothing under excellence, and I was pathetic. But he seemed to put my feebleness down to lack of training than my fear of using my core.

"Vamos, Miss. Swan!" He shouted at me, "Use your muscles! Clench them!" But I collapsed once again out of the rings.

"I'm sorry sir..." I began, but quickly realised that apologies wouldn't get me anywhere.

Master Abrego huffed angrily. "Next!"

"I bet Tanya's really good at that," Lauren said in a very audible mutter to Jessica.

I tried not to walk over and punch her, even as my fist clenched by my side. I had to toughen up.

The lesson went on and on until it finally reached quarter-past eleven. It was with intense relief that I picked up my bag and went down to the dining hall to pick up some food. "God that was horrible." Muttered Violet. "My love for gymnastics has gone down significantly."

"That's not much for me," moaned Eliza, "I never had any in the first place."

"What's next?" said Angela.

"Character," I told her, having already looked in my timetable to see what torture I had next. My second day, and I was dreading every single class.

Lunch finally rolled round, and with it, the dread of the dining hall. No one had forgotten what had happened this morning. Despite the feeling of many eyes on me, I instinctively glanced over to Edward Masen's table. Neither Edward nor Tanya were in sight. I let out a breath I hadn't even realised I'd been holding.

"Glad they're not there?" Angela observed, seeing where I was looking.

I nodded, "very." As we got our plates and headed for our table, I knew people stared. Bella Swan, the one who'd pretty much been killed by Tanya Denali, the school's Ballerina. The one who'd danced with Edward Masen, one of the best Danseurs in America. I was a juicy piece of gossip to them, but they had no idea who I was.

"I wonder if you'll get in _Dance _Magazinefor this." Said Violet. She seemed to be serious.

"I doubt that," I laughed, though anything seemed to be possible here.

"Edward's famous, you know that, right?" Said Eliza, "and Tanya's the sister of Kate and Irina Denali. You must have heard of them, at least?"

"Yeah," I realised. Denali. I should have made the connection. Kate and Irina Denali were both famous dancers in the American Ballet, they were household names. God even my _mom _knew who they were. I'd even seen them once, when the American Ballet had come to the Seattle Theatre.

Angela nodded, "Tanya's their kid sister."

"That would explain why she's so good." I blew up a stray lock of hair from my face. Angela, Violet and Eliza all exchanged cheeky, evil smiles.

Angela leaned in closer to me, "Tanya's been called the failure of the family. Her sisters are only one and two years older than her and they've been in the company for at least four seasons. Tanya's a year behind, and she's already auditioned once for the AB, and they wouldn't let her in."

"But eighteen's still extremely young to get into any company," I said.

Angela shrugged, "her family has very high standards."

"That's why she was pissed this morning!" put in Violet excitedly. "Edward's her ticket to the American Ballet!"

"And _you,"_ Eliza nudged me with a wide grin. "Threatened it with your dance with Edward."

"Oh _God," _I groaned, "I didn't mean to get in the way..."

"Oh please," scoffed Eliza, "Tanya Denali was so infatuated with herself, she needed your kick up the backside."

"Yeah," agreed Angela, "even I have to admit that she's not exactly modest."

"A diva," said Violet. "Now you just have to keep doing what you're doing and she'll lose any chance of getting into the AB."

I frowned at her. "Why would I want to stop her getting in? If that's what she wants to do, then it's none of our business."

Violet looked flabbergasted, "but she's a _bitch!"_

I shrugged, "she's just unpleasant." I was surprised that Morality Bella had chosen to come out after this morning's confrontation with the subject in question. "And besides, if she gets into the company, she won't be here to _be_ a bitch." Well, maybe Morality Bella wasn't _that _angelic.

"Still..." Violet began.

"Come on, Vi'," said Eliza, "Bella's right. Tanya's not done anything to us. Only to Bella, and that's her business."

Violet looked like a child who'd been found stealing from the cookie jar.

Taking pity on her, I smiled, "Come on, let's get to French."

Violet suddenly perked up. "Ohmigod! Then we have Pas de Deux!" She squealed, picking up her plate. "I wonder if Edward will be there!"

I tried not to groan. Crap. Pas de Deux. What would I do if Edward was there? Would he just ignore me again? Would he have to talk to me as the teacher? Oh God...We dropped our plates at the counter and went out into the entrance hall. I had to be at the class, even though I wasn't dancing. I would still have to sit there in his presence, trying to act like I hadn't had his large, warm hands on me yesterday, his arms giving me the height to fly, his deep green eyes staring deeply into mine.

It was going to be hell.

Ballet History went through painfully fast for such a boring subject. All the while, the question of whether Edward would be there thrummed through my head. And what I would do if he was.

Technically, there was nothing for him to say to me and nothing for me to say for him. Why should there be? I had danced with him as a demonstration, he had walked out for some reason which might not even have been connected to me. And the incident this morning...well, he was preoccupied with getting Tanya out. Of course he looked angry and was solely focussed on her. I didn't come into it...but of course, I knew I was. And that, mixed with my curiosity of him, was enough to confuse me to despair. Did I want to see him or not?

Before I knew it, we were back in the same studio as yesterday. Immediately, my mind flashed back to yesterday, to when he'd offered me his hand to dance with him, right there in the middle of the studio. The way he'd stood by the piano and watched me closely with those green eyes, knowing something was wrong when not even Madame Wright or Mike could tell. Then there was the door I'd just come through, which he'd stormed out of after everything.

Apparently other people were remembering it as well, as they glanced at me every so often as they stretched and warmed up. I bit my lip, trying to dispel my nerves, and went and sat against the piano, out of everyone's way.

Madame Wright arrived, apparently for the first time ever, on time, and brought out her little stool from the corner. Mrs. Gerran took her place at the piano. Violet gave me an excited glance from her position with her partner, clearly telling me that she was still expecting Edward to come in. I brought my knees up to my chest, ignoring the pain in my stomach, and waited.

"Positions, please," snapped Madame Wright from her stool. She looked _very _grumpy today. Her entire face was already puce as everyone exchanged looks. They were already in position. Madame Wright's realization of this only made her lips purse tighter. "Play," she commanded to Mrs. Gerran. "Begin with promenades. And a one two three four, one two three four." She didn't bother counting after that, watching with a bored expression as my class tried to work out if she wanted them to go down or not.

"Uh, Ma'am," Tyler Crowley was brave enough to say. Her pudgy face turned to him. "How long do you want us to hold it for?"

She looked him slowly up and down, like a rhino working out whether to charge something or not. The whole class was holding its breath. "How should I know?" She snapped finally. "Maybe we should go and ask Mister Masen, seeing as he seems to have more authority than me!" Her face looked like it might explode.

Well, now at least we all knew what the source of her blackness was. I remembered how Edward had told her to shut up yesterday, and had downright destroyed any power she may have had over the class.

But the class, still holding their arabesques, looked at her expectantly. I could see Jessica's face twisting a little with the pain. Her ankle still wasn't fully better. Madame Wright wrinkled her nose. "Fine, you can go down now."

The lesson went on with Madame Wright making confusing and out of time calls, not bothering even to watch half the time. But I was more focussed on the door, waiting for Edward to walk in. But he didn't. The clock above the mirror continued ticked round and round, until the hands pointed to five thirty.

He hadn't come. He hadn't come... "You're all dismissed," muttered Madame Wright, wiggling off her stool and stomping to the door. Mrs. Gerran adjusted her glasses on her nose and stood, picking up her sheet music. It reminded me very much of yesterday, except the scene lacked the main character.

Angela, Violet and Eliza came to sit by me as they took off their shoes. "God!" Exclaimed Eliza, "What was with her!"

"She was always a bad teacher," said Angela. "I guess her pride's hurt."

"She has _got _to sort it out. She's a teacher!"

"Why didn't Edward come?" Moaned Violet, who seemed far more interested in him than she did in Madame Wright.

Angela frowned, "yeah, I was thinking that, too. He's never missed a lesson before."

"You must have scared him off, Bella," joked Eliza.

I grimaced, thinking she was a lot closer to the truth than I would have liked. There was no doubt that yesterday had had turned everything upside down.

I was lying on my bed, flexing my feet round and round, when I heard the tinkle of my cell phone ringtone in my trunk. Leaping up to get it, I sent a horrible jolt of pain through my stomach. I groaned before lifting up the trunk lid and fumbling around in it for my phone. I brought it out, looking at the caller ID. Oh no. Charlie.

I snapped my phone open. Immediately, I heard Charlie's voice on the line. "Bella! Are you okay?"

"Yes, Dad," I told him, frowning.

"I'm looking at flights right now; we can get you home to Forks in just a few hours."

"What?" I stuttered, "Dad, what are you talking about."

"I can't believe what that boy did to you," Charlie seethed. "I'll have him up in court for this."

"Dad, slow down."

"I got a call from some French lady who told me some little boy in your class almost suffocated you yesterday!"

Oh God. "Dad, it was just an accident."

"I knew sending you to that school was a bad idea."

"Dad, stop this," I told him. "I'm fine, and I'm not leaving."

"God, Bells I'm so sorry, I should have known how dangerous this all was."

"Dad, _I am not leaving this academy, would you please stop!"_

There was a pause on the other side. "Bella, aren't you hurt?"

I sighed, "No, Dad. I'm perfectly alright." If he could see the state of my stomach, he would probably have brought the FBI over with him. Charlie was like that.

"But Bells..."

"Dad, please. You're majorly overreacting. Everything's okay. I like it here, I'm enjoying myself. You know how I love ballet, and here I can do it all day."

"Bella, you could have gotten seriously injured yesterday. Ballet's not safe."

I groaned. Not this discussion again. "Dad, neither is police work. Please let's not argue. I'm staying here."

"Your mother and I just want to protect you, Bella." His voice sounded a little weaker now.

"I know, Dad," I said softly, "but please trust me. Everything is fine."

"Okay..." he said hesitantly. "Have you been keeping up with your schoolwork?"

I slammed a hand against my forehead. Crap. My Mom had set me up with a whole package of work from the correspondence school. I was meant to report it in each week. It was the only thing that had convinced my parents I would be able to go to this school. Now with the complication of Mike, keeping my parents thinking all was okay was extremely important. "Uh, yeah, I've been doing some."

"Alright," he said. "There's a game on the old TV, so I'd better go. You ring me if anything's up and we'll have you out of there as soon as we can. You hear?"

"Got it," I said. We said our goodbyes and hung up. I flopped back on my bed.

He hadn't asked me a single thing about my ballet or my classes. In truth, he didn't care. He didn't see any point in ballet whatsoever.

I rubbed my eyes wearily and headed down to dinner, feeling drained and worn.

* * *

So, what do you think of Tanya now?

Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello, hello, hello!

Yes, here it is, another chapter, within forty-eight hours of the last one.

Thank you so much for the reviews! They made my day!

(Seriously, because I've spent most of it bored stiff at rehearsals. You guys are my inflatable life jacket :D)

Right, enjoy the chapter!

Sorry, but my editing hasn't been happening because of the lack of time, but I'm generally alright at it, so I'm not toooooo bothered.

Enjoy and Review!

* * *

The next four days passed without incident. I was getting used to having Madame Esme bang on the door at six thirty. I was getting used to Lauren interrupting our conversations with snarky comments, which I was also learning to ignore. I was getting used to Madame Cox's fast commands, and my stamina was building. I was getting used to the inevitable pain in my stomach, but I finally realised that it was getting better. The bruises were fading. I was even getting used to the constant stares I got. They hadn't backed down yet, even though nothing had happened. But there was one thing missing:

Edward.

I hadn't seen him since he'd lead Tanya away from me at breakfast on Wednesday morning. I'd watched the studio door on Thursday, but he hadn't come. I'd watched it on Friday, but still nothing. On Saturday's shortened lesson, he still hadn't turned up. I never saw him in the Dining Hall, either, or in the corridors. It was like he'd disappeared off the face of the Earth.

I wondered now if he'd left the academy and gone somewhere else. No doubt there were loads of schools who would accept him in. It wouldn't have taken long. He could be at another school right now...and that meant that I would never be able to see him again...I'd never have my indecent curiosity of him cured...

I tried to tell myself not to think about Edward; I came here for ballet, and he was getting in the way of it. But, of course, after I'd danced with him on Tuesday, I knew that I would never dance better than I had then; with Edward Masen. So I could hardly stop myself from staring at the studio door, wondering if he would come in.

I still wasn't participating in Pas de Deux classes. I wasn't missing much, though. Madame Wright just sat on her stool, the seams of her trousers looking like they could split with the slightest tug, and did nothing. Though she seemed to have healed her pride, she still didn't bother to teach us anything. It was more like practising, and when no one had done that much Pas de Deux in the past, practise couldn't make perfect.

Angela and Eliza complained day and night of the need for Edward to come back. "She's useless! Edward was always the one who taught us stuff." Angela was telling me again, as we sat at dinner on Sunday night.

Sundays were our one day off, as we still had three hours of classes on Saturday morning. Today, Angela, Eliza and Violet had taken me on a long tour of the grounds, all the way from the front gates to the lake and forest at the back of the property. Some people went home on Sundays, if they lived close by, but Forks was way too far away from here.

"And Edward kept everyone in line," said Eliza, nibbling on her bread roll. "Now Lauren won't shut her damned mouth."

"I wish you hadn't scared him off, Bella," said Violet, "He always looks so sexy when he's teaching."

"We don't _know _that it was Bella," said Angela.

Violet smiled, "Well, he was perfectly punctual before Bella came and danced with him."

"Either way," said Angela, "if he doesn't come back soon, we're going to have to tell Master Carlisle that he has _got _to change our teachers."

The hall was suddenly hushed as the man Angela had just mentioned stood up.

"Good Evening all," Carlisle's voice rang out through the hall. "I am pleased to announce that the notorious _Force de la Beauté _review will be held on Sunday, a week from now."

Excited whispering broke out. "Dance review?" I asked Eliza.

She was grinning like a loony, "It's more like a dance battle. Year against year. Head teachers against seniors; that sort of thing."

"The program of the show will be posted in the Entrance hall and classrooms shortly." Carlisle looked around us all. "Prepare to be beaten, _Mon amis."_

Emmet Cullen and Jasper Hale 'ooooohed' from their table. "You're on, Dad!" Emmet yelled.

Carlisle just laughed. "School dismissed."

Violet leapt up squealing. "Oh my God! This is gonna be _epic!"_

"I know!" Cried Eliza, and they began leaping up and down together.

Angela was grinning. "This sounds like a big thing," I observed.

She nodded, "it is."

That was confirmed the next day when Madame Cox gathered us into a group after we'd done half an hour of barre exercises. I exchanged glances with Angela. Madame Cox didn't seem like one for long speeches and group meetings. "Now," she said, "I have been informed that the Dance Review will be on Sunday."

The rise in attentiveness from the class was obvious. Madame Cox raised a pointed eyebrow. "Master Rodríguez's class have beaten this class four years running." She let one corner of her mouth slide up in the smallest hint of a smile. "We shan't be letting it become five."

Violet squealed and clapped her hands delightedly. "Go Madame C!"

The smile was back down in an instant, replaced by her usual, almost-scowl. "Control yourself, Miss. Price. Now, we have very little time. There will be absolute focus from every single one of you for the rest of the week." She nodded. "Alright I want half of you on stage right, half on the left." She clapped her hands. "Smartly now!" We hurriedly stood up, trying to work out which side needed more people. "Miss. Swan, you will be centre stage." I stopped in my tracks.

"Centre stage?" I choked out.

"Yes, Miss. Swan," she said, exasperated, "now, if you please." My heart didn't think it necessary to beat as I moved to stand in the centre of the studio. I was sure my face was a deep red. "Alright, we have three minutes, three minutes thirty most, on stage. We begin with Miss. Swan alone on stage for the first few bars – Mister Woolston, the introduction please." The pianist began to play. It had many notes, but it paused tentatively in places. I could feel my legs wanting to move in time to it, my arms wanting to rise. But I thought it best not to do that.

When the first of the quick notes came in, Madame Cox cut him off. "Alright, that is where we will have Miss. Mallory and Miss. Weber come in. Yes, yes step forward, now I want you to flank her on either side, yes very good." I shared a look with Angela. She smiled at me excitedly, clearly thinking my solo was a good thing. "And now on the next bar we will have five more of you and so on and so on. I want an inverted triangle." My classmates came on, working out where to stand. "Good, good, alright now this is where we begin the full dance..."

We spent the next hour going over and over the fast paced choreography. It involved so many pirouettes; I could pretty much feel the satin wearing away on my Pointe shoe. "And spin and land for arabesque and down and step and up and three four. I want those legs straight!" Sweat was beading on my brow as we pirouetted across the studio and held up another arabesque, then down again and back.

There was half an hour left when she finally allowed us a five minute break. "Miss. Swan, over here, if you please," well, apparently not everyone. I went to stand in front of Madame Cox, my legs aching, and sweat pouring down my back. I was glad I could wear my cami leos again – wearing sleeves and doing this sort of work would be diabolical. "Your solo will begin in that arabesque you held so well the other day," she told me. There was no question of whether I wanted this solo or not; I had it.

"An arabesque?" I couldn't help but splutter.

"Yes, Miss. Swan," she said, "now, I will teach you the choreography and you must rehearse it every waking hour until Sunday. Understand?"

"Yes, Madame," I nodded.

"Good, now as I said, you begin in an arabesque," she gestured for me to do so. I went en Pointe, holding my left leg up behind me, "and hold for one two three and then raise your arms...good, now slowly back and changing legs, have your toe touch your knee. And bend your waist left and hold...and now straight into pirouette pirouette pirouette and leap left stretch left leap right stretch right and back to centre for the others' entry. Hold it in third. Okay, now I want to play you forward a little through the entire thing, so whilst Miss. Weber and Miss. Mallory are doing their pirouettes I think I will have you couru for eight counts up..."

Her instructions went on and on. I had never, _ever _been given solo dance before, and now I was extremely worried that I would never remember all these steps and I wouldn't have anyone to go to to ask for them.

"Alright, break's over," declared Madame Cox. "Back into positions for the first entrance!" I hurried back to the centre of the 'stage' and tried to remember all that she'd told me. "And one two three and enter enter enter enter! Keep going, yes and up on three four five six and now to the right and..."

"I can't feel my legs," groaned Eliza, flopping into a chair with a plate of Greek salad.

"I know what you mean," I told her, my face inching toward my bowl of soup even as I tried to refrain from sleeping. "I never knew my toenails had nerves in them."

"Bella!" The call of my name woke me up a little. I looked around, confused. Angela, Violet and Eliza were all sitting around me. I turned in my chair. A short, pixie like girl stood in front of me. Alice Brandon. Adding to my surprise of seeing her here, I took in her white tights and red leg warmers with a matching red leotard. In one hand she held a pair of red and white polka dotted Pointe shoes.

"Uh, hi," I said, bemused.

"Oh, silly me," she said sticking out a manicured hand, "I'm Alice Brandon, ballet fashion extraordinaire and friend of that immensely idiotic Edward Masen." She smiled at me bouncily. I smiled back. She was infectious...I stood up and shook her hand. "I've been so curious to meet you – it takes a lot to get Edward to dance with anyone but Tanya; you really must tell me your secret!"

I frowned. Was she serious? "Uh..."

She smiled again, "confused by him? God, aren't we all..." she shook her head and jumped, clapping her hands, as if remembering something. "Anyway, I come bearing a message from Mistress Esme. She said she would like you to go to her office after your ballet history class as she would like to speak with you."

I frowned. Why would Madame Esme want to see me? "Did she say what it was about?" I asked Alice. She shook her head.

"Something good, I hope," she said, "I like you."

"What are you doing over here, Ali?" Suddenly a tall figure foreshadowed both me and Alice. He wrapped his arms round her waist.

"Jazz," said Alice, looking up at him, "this is Bella."

Jasper Hale was even taller than I'd thought. I had to crane my neck to get a good look at his handsom, blonde framed face. "How'd you do?" I could detect the southern in his accent. I smiled at him. "Come on Ali, we have to get to character."

"Mmmm," she groaned, her head only just reaching the height of his shoulders as she rested it back against his chest. "Not character."

"Come on, I know you know you like it," he said, kissing the top of her head.

She sighed. "I know you know I do." She slipped out of his arms and took his hand instead, then she turned to me. "It was nice meeting you properly, Bella, you're nothing like Tanya and the gossips are saying. See you later!"

"Bye," I said, watching as she skipped away, Jasper keeping up with his long strides.

I slid back into my seat.

"Friends with seniors," muttered Angela, "it's a strange world, isn't it?"

"Too true, Ange', too true."

After Ballet History, I did as Ali told me, heading down to the cool entrance hall. I walked down a corridor I'd never been down before, passing the grand staircase. I looked at the plaques on each of the doors. At the very end of the corridor I found Master Carlisle Cullen's office. Next to his door was an identical one, with _Madame Esme Cullen, Head Ballet Mistress, _inscribed on a small brass plaque.

I knocked, my nerves thrumming.

"Come in," I heard Madame Esme's voice through the door. I opened it, finding myself in a small but open office. Everything was dark cherry wood, but two windows and a French door led out onto a veranda. One window was partially open, letting through a gentle breeze. Framed photographs covered the white papered walls. They were all of ballet dancers striking complex poses and moves. I swore I could recognize Master Carlisle and Madame Esme in at least a few of them.

The latter person was currently sitting behind a small and elegant bureau. Next to her, standing, was a very tall boy. Not as tall as Jasper Hale, but taller than most boys my age. His face was grim and had a pasty dullness to it. Dull brown hair was cut in a bowl shape a good inch above his grey eyes.

He was dressed in a crisp white t-shirt tucked into black tights.

"Miss. Swan," said Madame Esme, "this is Mister Peter Davidson. He's agreed to be your partner for classes."

"Hi," I said, looking him up and down. So this was why I'd been called here, so that I could meet my ticket back into the hell of Pas de Deux.

"Hello," he said with a short smile, then looked down again.

"Mister Davidson is one of our second years," said Madame Esme, as if reading my thoughts, "he's very skilled at the Pas de Deux."

"Right," I said. That wasn't going to make this any easier. I didn't want to do Pas de Deux...

"Good," said Esme, gracefully standing and coming round her desk. "I best let you go off to your first class together." She opened the door for us and Peter walked out first. I followed. He walked quickly and quietly up the stairs. It had already occurred to me that I would know even less about him than I had about Mike when he'd first put his hands on me. The reassurances about his skill level weren't reassuring at all. I didn't want to dance with someone else. It was so constricting.

We walked along the corridor in silence. When we reached the door to the studio, I took a deep breath and walked in. "Why are you late?" Demanded Madame Wright, already a top her stool. Today, her thighs were squeezed into a burgundy pencil skirt, with a matching suit top. The rest of my class were performing promenades. They looked like they'd been doing it for some time. "My class started a quarter of an hour ago."

"Sorry Madame," I said, "I had to see Madame Esme. Uh..." I hesitated, looking at Peter, who was standing with his chin high, as if he were above this place. "This is Peter Davidson – he's my new partner." It made him sound like some sort of object.

Madame Wright's beady eyes looked over him as he nodded at her respectfully. "Madame," he said. I wondered if that was how all second years talked. The seniors certainly didn't seem to.

"Well hurry up and take your places. You've already disrupted enough."

I hurried to the side to put my Pointe shoes on. Peter stood waiting for me with a blank expression. Angela caught my eye across the room. Her look was a questioning one towards Peter. 'Later' I mouthed.

It had never taken such a short amount of time to tie up my Pointe shoes, even though I was trying to slow the process down. "And up on one two three four and turny turny turny and down two three four." I tentatively stood up. Immediately, Peter placed his hands on my waist and stepped forward in time to Madame Wright's count. I went with him, coming up on to Pointe and raising my leg once again into an arabesque. A chill of fear went through me. This was the move Mike had hurt me the most, the one where he'd almost suffocated me...immediately I came back down, pushing Peter's hands away in the process.

"Sorry," I muttered to Peter. He didn't say anything. He hadn't done anything wrong. I took a deep breath.

"And toe and step and up two three four," I followed the counts, managing to get up this time. I knew I didn't have a good form. My arms were rigid, my back leg tight. Peter began to turn me around. I hated the feeling. It was like I couldn't control my own body. Like I had to entrust it to someone else. Someone I didn't even know.

I swallowed as he turned me back to the front and allowed me to lower my leg again. I hated this. We continued on. Fortunately, we didn't spend too long on promenades. The other moves weren't as hard. Madame Esme was right; Peter was very good at the Pas de Deux. He was patient with me, letting me stop when I was being a coward, and he never held me too tightly. But there was something missing...

I worked it out when we were performing a sequence up the ballet studio, much like when I'd performed with Mike. Whilst everyone else whispered to each other as they waited for their group to be called up – in any other class but Madame Wright's we wouldn't have – Peter stood alone, looking dully at the dancers performing."Thanks very much for doing this for me," I told him.

He just nodded blankly, not quite looking at me, then returned to watching the dancers.

Our group began. "Tondue out and then courus and gentlemen jump left and ladies jump right and then step together again and up arabesque hold for one two three..." It was then that I glanced in the mirror and saw the very blank expression on Peter's face. It stayed the same as he began the promenade, turning me around without a spark of anything in his eyes. Then I lowered my leg and launched into the next set of courus. It was curious, watching his face as he stepped behind me. He watched my moves as I spun out and back again, but it was only to know when to catch me.

We ended in an attitude, with my leg bent slightly around his body. His expression didn't change. When the music stopped and I lowered my leg again, he took his hands off my waist and went back to the end of the line, like nothing had happened.

He was right; nothing _had _happened. We had performed a sequence of ballet moves. My moves were to lift my legs and go up onto Pointe. His were to put his hands out and support another dancer for pirouettes and arabesques. We had both performed our moves perfectly...but not in any way as a pair.

I tucked a stray lock of hair back into my bun and got ready to do the sequence again. I couldn't quite stop the memory of those few moments with Edward sneak into my head. Dancing with him, his entire presence had wrapped around me, everything had felt so fluid and perfect...but I couldn't think about him now. What on earth was the point when he didn't seem to be turning up to classes? And even then, what had he got to do with me? Like he'd said the last time I'd seen him; I was just helping in a demonstration.

I tried to exhale as I once again performed courus upstage. I had had this thought trail so many times over the past few days, and it never solved anything. All I could understand was my own need to understand him. And even that lead to quite a few bizarre questions.

The rest of the class passed slowly. When Madame Wright finally nudged her stool back into the corner and dismissed us, I was bored and confused, at the same time. Peter and I hadn't had any trouble with each other. Technically, we were sound together. All the moves worked, but neither of us seemed to being enjoying ourselves. He hadn't said a word since his quiet 'hello' in Madame Esme's office. But now I turned to him, "Thank you," I said, "you must be missing classes for this."

"No," he said, looking down at his feet.

"Oh," I said. "I figured everyone had sixth period classes."

A tiny smile came to his lips, "I don't consider Ballet History as a class."

I grinned, "Neither. It's very, very boring."

"Hm," he just muttered, and waited a couple of seconds to make sure I wasn't going to say anything else before slipping off to a vacant corner to take off his shoes.

I turned round, seeking out Angela.

I sat down next to her.

"He's very quiet," she observed, looking over at him. "How'd you find him?"

"Madame Esme organised it," I told her. "He's a second year."

She raised her eyebrows, "impressive! I thought that he looked way better than the rest of us. You should make the most of him and his experience."

"Aww, come on," Eliza had slid over from another conversation and into ours. "Bella's danced with Edward Masen." She waved a finger at Angela, "There's not much to compare to that."

Not wanting to pursue the sizeable subject of Edward, I quickly changed it. "So how does this Dance Review thing work? How do we work out which class goes first?"

Eliza was grinning again, my diversion clearly having worked. "I think they flip a coin or something, but we'll go look at the program right now. God!" She squealed, "This is gonna be great!"

I laughed and let her pull me up.

Violet joined us on our way down the corridor, skipping along. "I reckon that partner of yours is kind of cute, Bella," she said, "what's his name again?"

"Peter Davidson," I told her.

"You should try him out," she advised me. "His silence was sort of adorable."

I frowned, "right."

When we got to the staircase, we immediately heard the clamouring of people in the entrance hall. Eliza and Violet squeaked and began running down the stairs. Angela and I followed at a more...dignified pace.

The crowd in the foyer was large, full of people coming down just after class. Some were declaring that their classes were going to win. Seniors were shouting about which teachers they were facing. The teachers themselves stood off to one side, having a good laugh with one another as they watched the chaos.

Eliza, who was a little broader in the shoulders than most ballerinas, made a path for us through the mob of dancers to get to the notice board. We scanned down it, searching for our class. We didn't have to look far; we were first up. A bolt of nervous energy went through me. That meant that I was opening the entire show. Oh God...but something much further down the page caught my attention. It was the signups for the seniors going against the teachers. Next to Master Carlisle and Mistress Esme was a neat, simple script:

_Edward Masen and Tanya Denali_

A thrill ran up my spine. That was his writing. I knew it. The poster had only gone up today...that meant that he was still here. That meant that Edward was somewhere in this building...

The thought warmed me more than it should have. Edward hadn't left, Edward was still here, he hadn't gone...he hadn't left _me.

* * *

_

Well, there you go...Edward did kind of star in this chapter...oh fine, he didn't really, but hey, he just might decide to grand jete back in next chapter.

Review!


	8. Chapter 8

THANK YOU! To everyone who reviewed!

Even in the past day, I was in the midst of despair over several things and your reviews came and cheered me up!

Even if they were only ordering me to update, it's nice to be wanted.

I shan't apologize for a slow update. Stuff was happening. A lot of stuff.

But hey! Here it is, another chapter!

I'm soooo glad to finally get this out; I get twitchy after a week passes with no chapter.

Oh yeah, BTW I have started writing another story

(Amberdeengirl! That is sooo not fair! You said you had stuff to do!)

It is called The Fates: Troy, and it is a ff for the movie Troy, which you should see (BRAD PITT IN SMEXY GREEK ARMOUR!) if you haven't already.

Alright, please enjoy! And okay, I am kinda sorry!

And Please Review!

* * *

With the knowledge that Edward was still at _Force, _I eagerly looked toward his table when we went down for breakfast the next morning. Of course he wasn't there. "Doesn't he ever eat?" I muttered to myself, watching as Alice, Jasper, Rosalie and Emmet all sat down at the table.

Angela, who stood in front of me in the line, heard me, and turned to follow my gaze. She smiled, "He probably eats in his room or the senior mess," she said.

"I thought we all had to eat here, so the teachers could watch us."

She shrugged, "I don't think Edward Masen would do anything to put his ballet in danger."

I tried to accept that, but still; why did he not come and eat with his friends?

We headed up to tech, my limbs already screaming from yesterday's class. "You're so lucky getting the solo, Bella," said Eliza as she pushed open the studio door. "It's a _massive _compliment coming from Madame Cox."

"Yeah," said Violet, popping up behind us, "she _never _gives out solos. You are seriously good!"

An unladylike snort came from across the room, where Lauren and Jessica sat, tying on their shoes. "Jesus, Violet," drawled Lauren, "did you put your diaper over your brain this morning?" She stood up, the whole class now listening in, "if Bella screws up, then we're all going to lose. We shouldn't be relying on someone who can't even dance at her own age level." She raised a pointed eyebrow at me. "No pressure or anything, Bella, but we're all going to work our asses off and still fail because of you."

"You are so out of line, Lauren," said Eliza, shaking her head.

"And see," said Lauren, undeterred, "she doesn't even hang out with people who can help her. We all know that you're way too butch for ballet, Eliza."

Eliza snapped then, striding towards her with her fist raised. "You fucking – "

"Positions please!" Madame Cox's voice stopped her hand, just inches away from Lauren's jaw. We all spun around. Madame Cox was taking up her place at the front of the studio, her face sharp as usual, but she hadn't seemed to have noticed.

She stared back at our shocked faces with distaste. "Well come on! We have very little time." She clapped her hands to Mister Woolston, who was only just sitting down. "To the barre, please!"

After a few glances of confusion, we all rushed to the barres. I pulled Eliza in front of me. It would be only too easy to let her leg fly back into Lauren's stomach during a set of tondues. I could see her shoulders rising and falling quickly. "Eliza," I whispered, "calm down." I looked to see Madame Cox already clapping out the counts. "We'll sort this out later."

With Madame Cox in her usual, no-nonsense mood, no one thought it best to tell her about what had been going on. We went through our usual barre exercises, though it took a full ten minutes to relax back into the familiar moves.

"Alright," said Madame Cox. "Positions for the beginning, if you please." I went to the centre, walking with my feet pointed out, as you have to in Pointe shoes. I felt everyone's eyes on me. Even if most of the class didn't like Lauren, her words had gotten through; a lot was placed on me. Everyone wanted to win this, and Lauren was right; if I screwed up, we'd lose. Trying to expel those thoughts from my head, I raised myself up onto Pointe, my left leg immediately come up behind me.

"And music please! And one two three four..." my breathing was shaky as I held my arabesque, and lifted my arms. "Chin up, Miss. Swan!" I lifted my head quickly, losing any grace I may have had. I _had _to block out Lauren's words. I changed legs, making the series of moves Madame Cox had shown me yesterday. I was doing fine. But was fine good enough? I kept going. Things weren't so bad once people began entering behind me. I was relaxed enough to think about the choreography; the courus weren't working in the first section. I continued to do them, though, as she'd asked.

The rest of my class were finally onstage, and we went through the gruelling routine of quick pirouettes and turns. Now that we had the moves, Madame Cox began to change our positions, so that we weren't just in lines. Now we moved around the 'stage', not staying in the same spot more than a few seconds. The music was quick and sharp, and we seemed to be at its mercy. "Come on!" Yelled Madame Cox at one point. "Focus! You all just changed half the moves! Again from bar fifty three and one two three four..."

She didn't put me into any of the formations. Instead, I was to dance through them, or inside, or in front of. My mind was not used to so many quick orders to put into memory, and Lauren's words from earlier still loud in my head. Every time I forgot a move or went out of time, her voice was there telling me that I was going to fail because of them. And of course sometimes she really was there, sniggering at my mistakes. I told myself not to listen, but it was proving a challenge.

"You did fine, Bella," said Angela at the end of the class.

I wiped the sweat from my neck. "I screwed up a lot." I said.

She shook her head, "Lauren was talking crap earlier and you know it."

"I still want to go and punch her skanky little face in," muttered Eliza through gritted teeth.

"Not a good idea." I told her.

"Neither is sitting here and letting her insult us all."

"Don't give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to you," suggested Angela. She glanced at me. "And I mean both of you. What she said was crap, anyway."

"Hey Bella," I turned around. One of the guys from my class was standing there...what was his name? Fred?

"Hi," I said.

"Uh..." he looked at me as if I was going to break. "I just thought I'd offer my services, you know if you need to practise for the review and stuff. Just to get everything perfect."

I stared at him. He looked just about ready to bolt.

"Yeah, uh, just tell me..." he quickly walked away. I turned back to Angela and Eliza.

"Well, he didn't seem to think what Lauren said was crap." I raised an eyebrow at Angela. I knew it wasn't really fair, but my new found stress was putting me on edge.

"Ted's a jerk, Bella," she reassured me. "You're going to do fine. You just need more time to practise."

I knew I did. I hadn't practised last night because I had had to do my correspondence school work. I had more to do tonight, but now I knew that it would have to wait. I couldn't let my class down.

By the time Pas de Deux rolled around, I had been asked by several students in my class if I wanted their help. They all seemed to know the choreography better than I did. Even Mike came up to me at the end of lunch.

"Bella, I think you may have been a little off on your second pirouette. I could teach it to you, if you want."

"No thanks, Mike," I'd said, trying to smile. "I think I'll be fine."

"Right," he'd replied, but then he'd gone on, "just remember to keep your core in and to get out of it by the fourth beat. And remember in your Jete to check your feet. I thought one was a bit bent..."

"Right, thanks..." Angela had then mercifully broken in and pried him away from the subject.

Even now, as I walked into class, a girl called Megan was telling me how she always gained extra marks in exams for facial expression. "Thanks," I told her, "I'll make sure I do that." I gave a rather unconvincing smile and slipped away to where Angela, Violet, Eliza and Ben sat.

"God, I'm going to get a major headache if this keeps going on," I told them with a grimace.

Angela gave a sympathetic smile. "Bella, don't bother listening to them – you got the solo for a reason; you're better than they are. Madame Cox thinks you're doing fine."

I sighed and bit my lip. They still knew more than me, though.

Peter came in a minute later. His face was the same pale greyish colour as yesterday, his eyes downcast. I waved to him friendlily. He gave a weak smile back and went to sit against the piano, far away from anyone else. I turned back to the others. "Jeez," said Eliza, "I thought the second years were the bawdiest of the lot."

"Na," said Violet, "that's reserved for Jasper Hale and Emmet Cullen." She looked the mirror, slipping a black hairpin back into her bun. "Emmet's sooooo dreamy."

Eliza laughed, "Watch it, Vi', you seriously don't want Rosalie Hale pouncing on you."

I listened to their idle banter, stretching and tying up my shoes as Violet performed her daily gossip session. As she went through a list of names I didn't know, I glanced over at Ben and Angela. They'd been as quiet as me, though at the rate Violet was talking, it was hard to get a word in edgeways. Angela was sitting close to Ben, looking down at her hands in her lap, giggling at a joke he must have made. He sat much the same, his dark eyes looking at her shyly, his own smile a bit bigger on his face.

I observed them only for a moment, then left them to it, having a mental chuckle of my own. When were they going to realise?

"Good Afternoon, class." Madame Wright had finally arrived, today wearing a white suit which was a little too short for her wide shoulders. I had to admit, white did not exactly compliment her.

"Good Afternoon, Madame Wright," everyone muttered, standing up. Mrs. Gerran took up her place at the piano.

Madame Wright just pulled out her stool, as per usual, and sat glaring at us all, waiting for us to get ready. I hurried over to Peter, who stood ready in first position, his face staring blankly ahead. I still had to stop and swallow before stepping into position in front of him. He placed his hands on my hips, and I felt any power I had drain away. I shuffled my feet into first, and tried to convince myself I was comfortable. "Plies," said Madame Wright, unexcitedly, "one two three four..."

"Someone's grumpy today," I muttered under my breath.

Surprisingly, Peter replied, "She reminds me of my mother's pug dog."

I snorted out a laugh, leaning round to look at him. "God, I have to say, you're right."

His smile was a small as his last, but I could have sworn there was a bit more colour in it. His eyes looked brightly at me for a second, before Madame Wright's sharp, now puggish voice came in, "What is it, Miss. Swan, that you find so amusing?" Her small beady eyes stared right into mine.

"Sorry, Madame," I said, trying to wipe a smile off my face. It was cruel, but I could certainly see the resemblance...

As soon as her stony look went elsewhere, I quickly looked behind at Peter. But he'd returned to blandly staring at the wall above the mirrors, now his face a little tenser than before. I turned back, figuring that was the end of his talking for the day. It had been nice, though.

The class went on and on, until eventually we got to the combinations. We bunched up at the back of the studio and waited for her orders. "Alright, we're trying something different today," declared Madame Wright shuffling on her stool. "You're all getting sloppy, so it's time to move on." Eliza and I exchanged glances; where was the logic in that? Madame Wright continued, "We're going to move on to over the head lifts."

"What?" I snapped, looking at the woman. She couldn't be serious. She'd have to be insane...Overheads were dangerous, more so than other lifts because of the height and the amount of force used to get up to those positions.

"Over the head lifts, Miss. Swan," she drawled, glaring at me.

"Sweet," said Lauren with a grin. Tyler high fived her.

"Ma'am, we can't do those yet," I said.

"That's why we're _learning _them, Miss. Swan."

"We haven't even done fish dives," I said.

"Fish dives aren't as cool as overheads, though," said Violet, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Yeah," Eliza admitted, "they look fun."

"Finished talking, have we?" Madame Wright said distastefully, "You will begin facing each other with the boy's hands on the girl's waist. Then the boy will bend his knees, the girl will jump twice and then lift up, hands on the boys shoulders with her legs higher than the rest of her body. Girls, your head should be way out behind the boy; your belly should be above his head."

I glanced around. Everyone else was nodding, grinning with their partners. Madame Wright's popularity rate had just gone up. Mine had gone down, though I was more worried about my neck getting snapped than my reputation. Peter seemed to be the only one even slightly concerned. His forehead was creased in a frown. "Have you done this in your classes before?" I asked him.

"Only in advanced class," he said.

"Miss. Swan and whoever your partner is." Said Madame Wright, "you can be first with Miss. Weber and Mister Cheney."

Angela and Ben were already in position. "Ma'am," I tried to appeal, "I really don't think we should be doing this."

"Come on, Bells," said Angela smiling, "it's something new."

"I'll be able to hold you up," Peter told me quietly, "I do know how to do it."

I bit my lip.

"And my point is further proven," Lauren's piercing voice sung across the room. "The judges look for advanced stuff. We're not gonna get it from her."

I swore she was getting more confident in her insults by the second. Of course, Madame Wright didn't notice. Or maybe she didn't care. But that didn't matter. I shook my head. "Just don't drop me," I muttered to Peter, and went into the centre.

Angela gave me what was meant to be an encouraging smile, "You've done it before, remember?"

I suddenly did. Edward, lifting me up, giving me the height to fly...Edward...he wouldn't have let us do this. From my one lesson with him, I knew he wouldn't make us do anything as advanced and consequently dangerous as this. Oh God, where was he?

But the piano was already playing, and I was facing Peter, my hands on his shoulders, his knees bent, ready to lift me. "Alright!" Called Madame Wright from her stool, "just practise the prep first. And jump two three four and stop. And jump two three four and stop." At least she was taking us through it slowly. "And now I want a small lift hold. And one two three four hold her up!" Peter held me up easily, my legs straight underneath me.

I didn't make eye contact, of course. When I danced, I didn't want anyone to see the emotion it brought to me, at least, not to anyone who could not understand it. Instead, I glanced at Angela and Ben. They seemed to be doing fine. "And down two three four. And jump jump jump and hold up, and down two three four." My shoes touched the floor again. "Alright, now you will do the real one. Simply jump jump and boys get very low and lift her up just over your shoulders. She should be horizontal."

Now I did look at Peter. Could I trust him? Of course I could. But could he trust me? I had never done this before, I had no idea how it was meant to look, only how I imagined it would. "Okay and one two three four and jump and jump and up!" Suddenly I was being forced into the air, Peter's hands gripping my waist. His body blurred as I was boosted up above his body.

"Oh my God!" Someone cried out, the same time there was a piercing scream. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Angela, fully up in the air, swaying dangerously to the left. Oh God, we were too close. Her body crashed into Peter's arms. I slipped out of his hands, letting out a cry. He caught me again, painfully round the rib cage. But he'd lost his balance on the impact, and I came slamming down, my head smacking against the wooden floor.

Everything went black.

But just for a second. When my vision cleared, I saw Peter next to me, hurriedly standing up. People were yelling, my class already crowding around someone. Oh God, Angela. I quickly sat up. My head spun, I shook it off. Oh my God. I crawled through people's legs to see. Angela lay there, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face deadly white, wailing.

"What hurts?" Mrs. Gerran, the pianist, asked as calmly as possible, kneeling next to her.

"M-m-my-my ahh!" She screamed again.

"Angela," Ben whispered, swallowing, his face almost as pale as hers.

No one was _doing _anything!

I leapt up, running for the door. I only noticed Madame Wright from the corner of my eye, but she stood a little way back from the group, looking pale, staring straight ahead. I burst out of the studio and into to the quiet hall. The left side of my body ached, but I kept running, my feet moving extremely fast considering I was in my Pointe shoes, down the stairs and down the corridor of the entrance hall. Adrenalin pumped through me. Oh sweet God, Angela. I banged on Mistress Esme's door. No one answered. Oh God...Master Carlisle. I hurried to the next door, the one I'd seen only yesterday. I burst in.

Master Carlisle, whom I'd never actually met, sat at his desk, elegant, large hands typing on his laptop. He looked up, a frown on his hansom features. "Sir," I said, breathing heavily. "Angela...Angela Weber, she's hurt, badly." It took him only a moment to stand and be right next to me.

"Show me," he said authoritively. I spun around and took off. He followed swiftly after me. "Whose class?" He asked as we hurried up the stairs. My shoes made it harder, but I didn't stop to think of them.

"Madame Wright's," I said, my voice on auto whilst my mind tried to work out what was going on.

"What happened?"

"We were doing overheads," I told him.

"She fell?"

"Yes," I said. We reached the studio. I pushed open the door. Master Carlisle strode in.

"Get away from her, please," he said calmly, not bothering to stop his stride for my class. They glanced at him and immediately stepped back, only Mrs. Gerran and Ben staying with her. She was the same as when I'd left, her chest going up and down very fast as she gasped in pain. Carlisle knelt down beside her. "Miss. Weber? You need to tell me exactly what hurts, alright?" His French accent was softer to her, but nonetheless in charge.

Her eyes looked glazed over. "Shoulder," she whispered.

Carlisle nodded, "Stay still Miss. Weber, you'll be fine." He slipped a hand into his pocket and brought out a cell phone. No one needed two guesses to work out what he was calling. He walked away to face the window, probably so that he wouldn't distress her.

I slid down next to my friend. "Bella – " she gasped out, "are you okay?"

"Of course, Ange'," I told her.

"I'm so sorry," Ben whispered to her. I noticed the tear running down his cheek. "I just..."

"Ah!" She panted, squeezing her eyes shut.

I glanced at Ben, "maybe later."

We sat in silence, both of us, and Mrs. Gerran, all feeling helpless. The rest of my class kept their distance. I noticed Peter standing quietly in a corner. _Are you okay? _He mouthed to me.

I nodded a yes, my blackout long forgotten as I heard my friend whimper beside me.

Madame Esme burst in a few minutes later. "Angela! Ma Fleur!" She cried, rushing to her. Her cheeks were flushed. She must have run from a class. Her hands hovered over Angela, but of course she was just as useless as the rest of us. Anything we did would cause her pain.

It was a moment before Madame Esme caught herself, and showed a little more composure. Actually, I corrected myself, I think she actually lost some. For now she stood ever so slowly, and turned to where Madame Wright had stood frozen for the past ten minutes. "How could you let this happen?" She snapped at the fat woman. "What the _hell _were you thinking? And where is Edward! Why was he not here to make sure you did not do such a stupid, stupid thing!" Her accent was thicker than ever. "Where is he!" She growled.

Eliza nervously spoke up, "he hasn't been here since last Tuesday, Ma'am."

Madame Esme looked just about ready to stab someone. Master Carlisle, however, who had finished making his calls – I was guessing to Angela's parents, as well as the services – came and laid a hand on Esme's shoulder, "être calme, mon amour, nous devons être forts pour les enfants." His whispered softly to her.

Two seconds passed before she finally exhaled a pent up breath. "When will the ambulance get here?"

"They are here already," he said, then turned to the rest of us, "you may leave now, we cannot have crowding," he told us. It wasn't a choice, it was a request. Everyone slowly left out the door. Mrs. Gerran looked at me and Ben before putting her hands on both our backs. We stood together.

"Stay strong, Ange'," I told her, and we went out into the quiet hallway. The paramedics, in their blue shirts and smart trousers, were carrying a stretcher towards us.

"In there," I told them, pointing to the door.

"Come on," said Mrs. Gerran, "I'm sure you'll be able to see her soon. But for now, I think we could all use a hot chocolate."

* * *

I detest Madame Wright, I really do.

Anyway! Please review and tell me of your own opinions on Enraged Esme, Battered Bella and Calm Carlisle.

(Alliteration is horrible, isn't it? I do apologize :D)


	9. Chapter 9

Hello!

Ah, it is _lovely _to be writing again!

I have had one of the most stressful weeks of my life, which I shan't list, but it has been terrible.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews

They have boosted my spirits and have forced me to write five thousand words (huzzah), even if the updates overdue.

AHA! I keep forgetting to tell everyone!

THE PIECE FOR THE DANCE REVIEW IS CALLED:

_All of me_, by Jon Schmidt

It's not ballet music, but I love it (and I've learnt _two whole bars_ of it on the piano).

It's on youtube, so if you're that sort of reader then go have a listen, and you'll get the fast allegro feeling of the piece!

Please review (hehe...ah, I shan't say anything)

ENJOY!

* * *

Time ticked by slowly as we sat in the staff room. Teachers went in and out, but they didn't seem to mind us being there with Mrs. Gerran. The whole school probably knew by now. They would have seen the stretcher.

If I'd had my way, I would have either been in the ambulance with Angela or by myself, away from anyone who might want to ask me about what had happened. I was not in the mood. However, I couldn't leave the staffroom. Ben, after leaving Angela's presence, had turned totally distraught, and I felt someone needed to be there for him. He sat in his chair, his knees brought up to his chest, his hands wrapped around a cold cup of cocoa.

"Ben," I said, putting a hand on his arm, "it was an advanced step that she shouldn't have made us do. It's not your fault."

He took a moment to answer. "She's never going to trust me again," he whispered, not looking at me.

"Angela is the most forgiving person I know; anyway, she won't have stopped trusting you in the first place."

He didn't seem convinced, and looked sullenly at the antique coffee table. The staffroom was like any other room in the school; cherry wood panelling, small chandeliers. But, unlike in all the other rooms, the fireplace wasn't boarded up, and now hosted glowing, crackling flames. Other than that, the room was full of comfy, high backed armchairs and tables. An end table stood in one corner with a selection of hot drinks and cakes. Mrs. Gerran had tried to get us to eat, but I was feeling slightly dizzy, and food did not sound like a good idea.

It was a few silent moments later that Mrs. Gerran herself slipped onto the chair next to us, holding a cup of tea. Ben immediately sat up. "How is she?" He asked.

Mrs. Gerran looked pained. "Master Carlisle rang me. He and Esme are with her in the ambulance," she told us, "Mister and Mrs. Weber are meeting them at the hospital."

"Do they know exactly what's wrong with her?" I asked. She looked a little hesitantly at Ben.

"They think it's a broken collarbone, maybe a few ribs. They won't know until they x-ray her." She looked at the both of us. "Master Carlisle told me to tell you two, but he would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else. He'll make a formal announcement to the school when he gets back."

I nodded. Ben didn't respond at all, sitting back into his crumpled position. I tried to bring up small talk with Mrs. Gerran, but all I could think was to say, "I guess injuries don't happen here very often."

She sighed and put her hands in her lap, "We get injuries in advanced classes occasionally, but they're usually just bad sprains or hamstrings. In all my time here, there's only been one other serious injury in a class. A boy landed a leap the wrong way and wound up in hospital. It was an accident." I nodded. Accidents happened, even in professional companies. Some just couldn't be prevented.

"The teachers here are too good to let careless mistakes happen, and the students can usually be relied on." She looked to Ben, "Particularly in this situation," she said. He looked back doubtfully. She pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned in closer. "Of course, Madame Wright was certainly to blame for Angela's incident. And you, Miss. Swan," she nodded to me, "were very brave for trying to stop her."

"My resolve went as far as my idiotic vanity allowed," I muttered. "It still happened."

She shook her head, "you have been through many things since you began here, Miss. Swan. I certainly will never forget that first class you were in." She gave a light chuckle at the memory. "That Edward Masen is a curious boy." Her expression turned a little sour, "he should have been here. Perhaps Madame Esme took it a little far, but he would have prevented it."

I nodded dolefully. I'd thought that...God, why hadn't I kept up my argument? I could have saved my best friend from _this. _

"I wonder where he's got to."

"He's still at school," I told her. "I saw his name on the review sheet."

She nodded, "yes, I've seen him about. I'd simply assumed that his apprenticeship time was up. Though I don't think it's too hard to really know why Edward's been put in Madame Wright's class."

She glanced at her watch. "Oh, it's dinnertime," she said. She look worriedly at Ben, "Do you think you can go?"

He took a deep breath and stood up, putting his mug on the table.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Gerran," I said to her, picking up my Pointe shoes from the floor.

"That's alright," she said, "I'm sure you'll be told if there are any further developments."

She held the staffroom door open for us and we slipped out. Straight away, we were in the entrance hall. Students were coming down the stairs. Silently, we merged into the chattering crowd and went into the dining hall. "Yeah," I heard some students say behind us, "that's Ben Cheney. The one who dropped her." I was extremely tempted to turn around and snap at them, but instead I pulled Ben along to the queue. His face was taut and pale.

"Ben," I said softly to him, "Pas de Deux is two people working as a pair. If something goes wrong then it's the pair's fault, not the individual's." I was not sure where I'd gotten this from. I wasn't even sure if it was true...I thought about dancing with Peter. Certainly, if I made a mistake it was my mistake alone, it would be unfair to blame it on him. But then, it never felt as if we were a pair. We were by each other, but not _with _each other. And of course before Peter was that one class with Mike. I had blamed that on him, I would admit it, though I should have told him he was holding me too tight...but that was the thing; he hadn't known. But Edward...my heart slowed as I walked...when I'd danced with him, it was the two of us...inexplicably joined.

I shook my head quickly, reminding myself for the millionth time of what had happened afterwards.

As soon as I reached out table, Eliza stood up, "Bella, do you know if she's okay?" She demanded.

"She's in the ambulance; I think Master Carlisle's going to tell us more later." I sat down, sliding my plate onto the table with no intention of eating it. I was feeling kind of nauseous.

"You were right, Bella," said Eliza dully, "that move was _way _too advanced for us."

"I loved how Madame Esme owned Madame Wright, though," chirped Violet. "She was so funny. Her expression was hilarious." She was the only one at the table smiling.

Violet, realising that it maybe wasn't the time, let her smile fade. Things settled into silence. Other groups of students fluttered around, several of the pointing out Ben. I was sure if he even noticed; his expression was so vacant.

Dinner passed very slowly. No one talked much. I wished I'd brought my phone with me, though I doubted Angela would be in the position to text.

Eventually, another teacher, Master Hinde, Eliza quietly informed me, stood up and dismissed us. My table stood quickly, all of us anxious to get away. I was in the entrance hall when I heard someone call my name.

"Bella!" I spun around. Alice Brandon was coming up to me, pulling Jasper Hale along behind her. His face told me he was in heavenly submission. "I heard about Angela," she said. Her bouncy voice was softer now. She pulled her hand from Jasper's and put it on my shoulder. "I know she's your friend. Are you okay?"

It was slightly weird, being asked if I was okay by a near-stranger, and that she actually seemed sincere. Her concern was comforting, though. "I'm fine," I told her. "I just wish it hadn't happened."

"Yeah," Alice muttered, "Madame Wright's a liability in the extreme."

I was about to agree when I realized, "Wait," I said, "you don't think it was Ben Cheney's fault?"

"We weren't there," said Jasper, curling his arm round Alice's waist, "but we heard what happened. The move was too advanced."

"Yeah," agreed Alice, "even if they aren't a steady pair, it was Madame Wright's fault in the first instance. She should have known their limits."

"I bet they fire her," said Jasper, a smile on his face.

"Carlisle would be insane not to," said Alice, "The parents would all protest if she stayed, even if she is Andrea Wright."

My head snapped up, "what?"

Alice smiled, "Madame Wright _used _to be Andrea Wright, of the New York Ballet."

"God," I said. I'd heard of Andrea Wright, the _prima ballerina _of the New York Ballet! She was famous for her beautiful performance of the Nutcracker Pas de Deux. I'd never had a chance to see her before she'd left the stage, but my old ballet teacher had talked about her many times. The image of Madame Wright, sitting with a slumped back on her little stool, a glum expression on her face...it didn't fit with the idea of a world class ballerina.

"How did she get _here?" _I asked.

Jasper smiled, "She'd just retired and Master Carlisle employed her. No one could do Pas de Deux like her. Except maybe Edward and Tanya, once they're professionals."

Alice giggled, "She doesn't like them much."

"So what's happened to her?"

Jasper shrugged, "I really don't know. Either way, she might be the best at Pas de Deux, but she's certainly not the best at teaching it."

"Even with her fame," said Alice, "she's not going to be staying after all this crap."

I almost groaned. If my parents found out about Angela...God, if they found out about me doing the exact same _move _as Angela, I would be out of here in time for the early birds math tutoring session in the school library...

"Yo! Jazz!" Came a loud call from the dining hall.

Emmet Cullen was striding down the hall, as confident as Master Carlisle, though being dressed in a hoodie and cargo pants pretty much ended the similarities. Other students stepped aside, all looking a little awe-stricken, even though most saw him every day. He strode right to our conversation, grinned at Alice and Jasper and then looked to me.

"Ah!" He exclaimed, turning the heads of those still leaving the dining hall. "You must be Bella!" He gave me a wide grin, holding out one massive hand. "You've been front page of the _Force _gossip's magazine ever since you got here!" I shook it, my hand getting lost in his palm. "I'm Emmet Cullen," he said proudly, "brand new and shiny after a five hour detentional work-out with Master Abrego, the great Spaniard."

Jasper chuckled next to him, "Rose better watch out, man; you and that guy spend _way _too much time together."

"What about me?" Came a sharp, clear voice. Rosalie Hale came out of nowhere, her arm curling around Emmet's massive bicep. She was a good head taller than Alice, and her graceful, long body reached up to Emmet's nose, just about. Despite the gesture, she was staring up at him with a perfectly pointed blond eyebrow.

Emmet simply grinned at her. "Don't worry, baby, I'm all yours," he said.

Rosalie gave him a once over and broke out into a one sided smile, eyeing him with bright blue eyes, "I know". Emmet's grin widened and wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her closer.

It looked like they were about to start eating each other when Jasper, thankfully, came out with a much exaggerated cough.

"Rose," he said once he'd got their attention, "this is Bella Swan."

She tore her eyes away from Emmet and turned to me. Her eyes narrowed. "So you're the one Edward's been all bitchy for lately."

"Um..." I frowned. She looked me up and down. I hadn't bothered to get dressed, so I was still in my Leo and tights, my black wrap top keeping me slightly warm.

Eventually, her eyes came sharply back to mine. "What's your grade?" She asked me.

"Um..." I said again. Yeah, I had such a way with words. "I haven't done any."

Two perfectly glossed lips opened. She looked at me, her eyebrows raised. I suddenly felt very, very small. "You haven't done a single exam?" She reiterated.

I shook my head, "No."

"Why did they let you in here?" She asked, though I doubted she wanted an answer. She was looking me up and down again, this time with even more contempt.

"Rose," Jasper said warningly. But she just gave me an emotionless, Cheshire cat smile and brushed past me in a flush of perfume to the stairs.

Emmet watched her go a moment before giving me a sympathetic smile. "Sorry 'bout this," he said, "It was nice meeting you, Bella." Then he bounded up the stairs after her.

"_Rose_," muttered Jasper in frustration.

"Rose has this thing about exams," Alice told me, rolling her eyes, "grades define who you are with her."

"Great," I muttered, "so I'm like the horse who doesn't even know how to stand."

"Just ignore her," said Alice, "I've only done a few exams, but she came round eventually."

"Right," I nodded, not entirely sure if I wanted someone like that to be my friend... "I better go," I said. "I was hoping someone might have some more news by now."

"'Kay," said Alice, giving me a quick hug, "I hope Angela's gonna be okay." She pulled back, her hands on my shoulders. "And if you ever need to talk, I'll be in the usual places."

"Right, thanks," I said, my smile sincere, if not a little sad. "See you later."

There was no news when I checked at the staffroom door. Mrs. Gerran's face was pale, though. "Just get some sleep, dear," she told me quietly. The staffroom beyond her was lit only by firelight and a few lamps now. I saw Madame Cox staring into the flames, along with Master Clayworth, our Character teacher. He always liked Angela's expressions and movements. Character was her thing, as it was his. Smoke curled up from his cigarette. The staffroom hadn't smelt of smoke, so I guessed it was a special occasion.

"Mrs. Gerran, what is it?" I asked her. Tears were already welling at my eyes. I had no idea what was going on...what if it was something really terrible?

Mrs. Gerran pursed her lips, pushing up glasses. "It's a little worse than they thought, dear."

"What?" I demanded.

Madame Cox appeared at the doorway. Her usual scowl was more pronounced...sadder now. "Miss. Swan, please go to your dormitory, you have no business here."

Mrs. Gerran looked a little hesitant, but Madame Cox pulled the door shut in front of me.

I swallowed down the stupid lump in my throat and turned down the corridor and up the stairs. As I began up to the first floor, music floated to me. I knew what it was, but I didn't bother to name it. I knew my mind instinctively played it when I was upset, or worried...when my friend in Lord knows what state...I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stay composed. Gradually, I let the music sink into my bones. My hand lifted softly up and down by my side, my breathing slowed. I had to be strong about this. I wasn't the one in hospital; I didn't have any right to be a wretch when I was perfectly fine.

It was only when I reached the second floor that I realized the music had faded to the very quietest of sounds. I stopped at the end of the banister and spun around. The music hadn't been in my head? But...I fought the urge to run back down the stairs and down to the end of the first floor corridor, to the last door on the left, where I knew it would be.

"Bella!" Eliza's voice called. She was just coming out of the girl's bathroom with her toilet bag and PJs. "You okay?" She asked.

Confused. Unrightfully upset. Worried beyond despair. "Yeah," I said.

"Come on," she said. I tore myself away from the stairwell and the faint music. "It's been a long day."

"Too true," I murmured.

Another teacher, Madame Bansch, came in to ensure that we were all in bed. So Madame Esme was still at the hospital. "Good night, girls," her rough Russian accent was very different than Madame Esme's. Somehow she had managed to become more motherly in the past week than I thought could be possible, considering she was constantly yelling at us.

I didn't sleep well that night. It took me hours to get to sleep, every couple of minutes I would check my phone anxiously, even though both Angela and I weren't the texting type. Besides, I told myself at about eleven, no sleep in sight, if she was as bad as the teacher's expressions suggested then I doubted she'd be able to text.

"_Bella!"_ A voice reached into the black void. _"Bella!"_

Where was this voice coming from?

Where was I?

Who was calling that name? Whose name was it anyway? _"Bella!"_ Bella...Bella...

"_Clearly she's trying to get out of class," _came another voice, this one sounded annoyed, irritated. Why was it irritated?

"_Maybe she's dead," _another voice.

"_Oh zip it, Violet," _Oh God, too many voices...too many...

"_Bella!" _Was that the first voice...oh God, I didn't understand!

"_Shut up!"_ I cried out. I had a voice...I was another voice...oh God, what's happening...what...what...

"_See, she's awake,"_

"_Her eyes aren't open."_

"_Just wait a second and she'll start calling Edward Masen's name again."_

"_God, shut up, Lauren! You're such a pain in the arse, even now with everything that's happened with Angela and stuff!"_ Angela...

My eyes flew open. Bella. That was _my _name. Angela...something about Angela. I looked around. Who were all these people?

Wait...Eliza, Lauren, Violet, Jessica. "Where am I?" I asked to these people. Why did I know their names, but not who they really were?

"The dorm, you idiot," the girl called Lauren drawled.

Time ticked...

Shit!

I shot up in bed, a flurry of thought entering my mind.

"Has there been any news about Angela?" I demanded.

"Well finally," Lauren muttered the same time as Eliza shook her head.

"There's going to be an announcement at breakfast, though," she said. "God, you took ages to wake up." She looked at my ruffled state sympathetically. "You been worrying?"

I nodded. "I hope she's okay." I said.

"Same." Eliza replied, "come on, you better get changed, if Madame Esme were here you would be _dead _by now."

Like dinner, breakfast was a sober affair. Alice came over and gave me a quick hug and asked if there had been any developments. I was glad for her support, strange as it was from someone I knew even less than other people here. But then, I'd only known Angela for a week, and my concern seemed to be dominating everything.

"Attention, school!" Came a call from the front of the hall. It was near the end of breakfast, and I had only eaten a few spoonfuls of yoghurt, waiting for this announcement. It was Master Hinde again. All talking stopped, and the short man cleared his throat uncomfortably, "...as, uh...as many of you will know," he began, twisting his lips, his moustache bristling. "Miss. Weber, a first year here, had an accident yesterday during class. Ah...Master Carlisle has asked me to tell all of you that...ah...she is in the operating theatre at present, but it is going to procedure, with no complications."

I glanced at Eliza. She gave me a nervous nod. "Ehem...school dismissed."

My head swirled as we all stood. I gripped the chair for support, a horrible opaque yellow creeping out around the edges of my vision. I pressed my lips together, waiting for it to clear. Finally, I could see again. No one had noticed. I took my plate to the serving ladies and headed upstairs to tech.

Glancing around, I saw that everyone was performing their usual stretches and warm-ups. Ben sat alone in a corner, gripping the foot of his outstretched leg with a pained face, even though I'd seen him do it yesterday with ease. It wasn't his leg he was thinking about. I stretched alone, having always warmed up with Angela before now. I still felt light-headed as I practised my soubresauts and plies, and more than one of them were off-balance.

Eliza came and sat next to me as I tied up my shoes. "Woken up yet?" She asked jokingly.

"Just about," I said with a half-smile. "Last night dragged on a bit." I then looked down at the ribbons of my shoes. They were a satin mess, already coming undone. I frowned. Tying up my pointes had become second nature...

"Alright, class!" Came Madame Cox's voice, "Quiet, if you please!" I hurriedly did them up the right way and stood with everyone else. "Now," Madame Cox's dark eyebrows were drawn down in her normal, sharp scowl, and her hair pulled back in the high, regal bun. Despite her changed temperament last night, she was back to normal. The problem was that I most certainly was _not. _

My focus faded in and out as we performed our barre exercises. One moment, I would be focused on keeping my core engaged, my arms long, and the next I would be drawn out to thinking about Angela. The inevitable question buzzed in my head: would she come back? Would she return to _Force de la Beauté? _

"Miss. Swan!" Madame Cox's voice was sharp at me, "Your posture is cause for distress!"

I straightened up, pushing my shoulders back and tightening my ribs. "Better!" She snapped.

I managed to get through the rest of the barre exercises without further fault, but I knew I was not at my best; my échappés were sloppy, and sometimes I couldn't even get onto my pointes, let alone hold myself up. My tondues were terrible. I couldn't seem to work out which foot went behind the other, even though I'd being doing it with little thought for many years now.

"Alright," said Madame Cox, "starting positions, if you please!"

It was with relief that I took my hand off the barre and hurried to the centre. But of course, this was going to be even worse. "And five six seven eight and," I lifted my leg up into arabesque, praying I could stay en Pointe. It seemed fine, I seemed okay... "Arms out, Miss. Swan!" Crap! I quickly stuck my arms out, but the clumsiness made me lose balance, I slipped back onto a flat foot, desperately trying to keep my leg up. I pressed my lips together, determined to get my position up again.

"No," said Madame Cox, stopping the piano. She took a deep breath, as if resetting, "Again, if you please." I nodded quickly and got into position, remembering my arms this time. "And five six seven eight and change legs, yes and now pirouette, pirouette, pirouette..." I wobbled on my toes as I tried to spin. I knew I looked pathetic, but she continued on as the introduction ended, "alright and enter enter enter!" When only Lauren spun on, Madame Cox stopped the music again. Angela had been the one to enter on my left. "Miss. Andrews, you may take Miss. Weber's place, do you know this part?"

Miss. Andrews was apparently Megan, and she stepped forward with a smile, "of course, Ma'am." She bobbed a sort of curtsy. For me, Angela's replacement was a real confirmation of how bad she was, even though I already knew it. She was in the operating theatre...God; I hoped she was going to be okay...

"Miss. Swan!" Madame Cox's voice pierced my thoughts. It sounded as if she'd said my name several times now...I realised that Mister Woolston was already playing the music. I quickly lifted my leg, but of course I was already passed that point...Madame Cox just gave a small sigh and counted, "six seven and enter enter enter! Yes, good Miss. Andrews! And everyone on! And yes, pirouette! Bravo! And five six now left left and right, now split. Miss. Swan! Where are you?"

I glanced around, realising I should have been upstage, leaping and turning down the large split my class formed for me. Crap! I quickly ran there, to keep in time to the music. "And right step left, left step right!" My legs crossed awkwardly, having no idea of what to do. "Assemblé right Assemblé left and right left right now pirouette, pirouette..." I was lost, watching everyone else do it with such ease.

What was wrong with me? Why were my legs getting all mixed up? "Come on, Miss. Swan! Downstage!" I leapt forward, thankfully remembering this part, and landed in another wobbly pirouette. "And five six seven eight and combo again!"

The rest of the practice was a mish mash of stops and starts, almost all of them on my part. I was swallowing down a heavy lump in my throat as the clock told me I had five minutes to go. "Alright!" Ordered Madame Cox, her voice now a painful, amplified caw to my ears, "once more from the top!"

I took a deep breath. Just five more minutes, then I could leave, then I could be done with this horrible thing for another day...I lifted my leg in arabesque, praying I didn't screw up. It was bearable, right until the rest of the class entered and we began the combination. The combination we'd performed a _thousand _times in the last hour.

I blanked. My arms went slack. What...what was the next move? I watched everyone else do it in the mirrors, but it was too late. My leg dropped.

"Miss. _Swan!" _The piano stopped abruptly, and Madame Cox finally gave up any tolerance. "Would you please _focus!"_

I gulped and looked at her. Her dark, almost black eyes stared back at me, her hand on her hip. She stared for a good long time, as if trying to work out whether I was the same person she'd given the solo to. I certainly wasn't sure... "Class dismissed," she eventually sighed, turning to collect her clipboard with weariness I'd never seen in her before.

Tears stung my eyes. I knew I'd failed her.

None of my other classes were as bad, but then, I didn't find any of them as important, particularly this week of the dance review. No one said anything about how terrible my performance was. I missed Angela; I realised now that she'd been my key confidant for the past week.

But, I told myself, talking wouldn't solve the problem of my uselessness. That was my fault alone, and now I was going to let down my entire class in front of the entire school. I would prove that they shouldn't have allowed an inexperienced, too-old amateur into _Force de la Beauté__. _

To make matters worse, my head kept up a solid stabbing pain for most of my classes. At lunch, I sat down to my chattering group of friends. Mike sat next to me, loudly telling everyone a story from conditioning class. I didn't understand the words he said. All I could think of was how horribly loud his voice was, stabbing in through my ears. Everyone laughed, and suddenly it was all pressing into me, crushing my mind. I tried not to groan, and took my unfinished lunch to the counter, urgently needing to escape the noise...too much...too much...

Ballet History was turning into my favourite subject. Master Butler, whilst unenthusiastic himself, was at least good at keeping the class quiet as he droned on and on from Russian Ballet: A history. He didn't even know how to pronounce half the words, and so it was all meaningless. Without Angela to pass notes to, and without any happy thoughts to cling to, I sank down on my desk, my head pressing against the cool surface. This was what I had wanted to do all day. _Sleep._

"_Bella!"_

"_Bella?"_

"_Wakey wakey!"_

"Huh?" I moaned, my head feeling extremely heavy as I lifted it. I was still at my desk.

Eliza's face grinned down at me, "Class is over, Bella."

"You're so lucky you can fall asleep at desks!" Exclaimed Violet. "I've always wanted to fall asleep in Ballet History!"

I smiled drowsily, "I didn't mean to." I stood up, lifting my books off the table. "Thank you sir," I said to Master Butler as I pushed the door open.

"Mhmm," he murmured. He seemed just as awake as I did.

"We better hurry," said Eliza, "we're gonna be late."

"Oooo!" Squealed Violet, "I wonder what's gonna happen!"

"If Madame Wright is there then I swear I'm going to walk out," declared Eliza. "What a bitch."

"Have you got any texts from Angela?" I asked her.

"Nope," she looked down at her books, snuggling them against her chest, "I hope we find out more soon."

"I wonder if hospital food's as bad as everyone says it is." Said Violet. I gave her a sideward glance.

Everyone was already doing their warm ups when we got there. Or rather, they were playing around with ballet moves. Tyler and Ryan were teasing Jessica and Lauren by pretending to be female dancers. Megan was winding her ballet ribbons up her legs in funny patterns. Ben was staring idly out at the windows, blind to the laughter going on around him.

Only Peter was warming up. He was practicing ronde de jambes, artfully swinging his leg back and forth with extraordinary control. I could see why he was in the advanced class. But then his face was blank, focussed straight ahead, watching his leg move back and forth. It just didn't look right.

I took a deep breath and slid to the ground. I hardly dared put my pointes on. Today, they felt like my enemy. They'd never felt like that before. To be feared and respected, yes, but to be hated? Never. Rolling my shoulders back, I tried to entice myself into enthusiasm, and then I wound toe tape around my toes and then put toe pads over them, as if having both of them would somehow solve my problem. Then I slipped my shoes on and tied them up, watching myself carefully wind the ribbons above my ankles. I had to rethink a few times, getting them round the right way.

It was then that the door opened.

All laughing, all talking stopped.

My heart thudded, even as my breath caught.

* * *

Please review!

You _must _have something to say now!


	10. Chapter 10

Phew!

Right, hello there! Just turned midnight, and I am very tired (no surprises)

I am very super duperly excited to announce that Claire de Lune is getting translated into German!

EEEEEE! Exciting! I haven't asked her permission, so I can't put her name up now, but anyway, very exciting!

As always, thank you so much for the reviews!

I'm on holiday now, so keep 'em coming and I might be able to post again by tomorrow or Monday night!

WARNING: This chapter contains info about medical stuff which I'm not entirely sure of, so don't go quoting me eeek!

Anyways, please

REVIEW!

and

ENJOY!

* * *

Edward. He was back. He was here. He was back...

He strode into the room, his movement just as I remembered. His fists were tightly clenched. My breath was taken from me as I remembered how safe and warm my hands had felt in those same fists...and how his hands had been gentle, but confident. He was wearing black track pants and a fitted white t-shirt. Somehow it didn't look like uniform on him. On his wrist I saw a black wrist band I hadn't noticed before. There was something attatched to it...some sort of intricate design. I wondered what it was...

But then I finally looked at his face. His strong jaw and chiselled features were tense, but they were as I remembered. His lips were a straight, almost bored line. And his eyes...the same green I had learnt so well in those few moments, deep and infinite. I wanted to look into them again, as I had done, I wanted to explore more...but he wasn't looking at me. I shut my eyes and exhaled, trying to remind myself that I hardly knew Edward Masen.

He was standing at the front of the class, his hands now behind his back. Mrs. Gerran was already sitting at the piano, a quiet smile on her face.

Eliza had been trying to get my attention. I glanced at her. 'Thank God' she mouthed to me, then grinned. I gave a weak smile back. Edward was here, and so my abnormal curiosity might be satiated. But then, Edward was here, and after all that had happened, after he'd walked out, could I even look him in the eye?

He now cleared his throat, looking out at the class. "Good Afternoon, class," he said. His voice was the same authoritative sound, though it seemed so business-like. The last time I'd heard him speak was when he had been talking to Tanya in the dining hall. Then his voice has been angry, and tense. Now it was just blank.

Whilst I had been thinking, everyone else had stood up, and they were now chorusing, "Good Afternoon, Sir."

"Sit for a minute," he said. I exchanged another glance with Eliza as she sat down again, what was this going to be about? Edward stepped forward, a serious look in his eyes. "As Angela's class I believe you have a right to know how she is," he began in a heavy tone. I sat up straighter. He had more information about Angela? His jaw was taut as he continued, "In falling she managed to break her collarbone. Normally it wouldn't be so bad, but the bone has been displaced." He swallowed. His expression was still calm and controlled, but I saw the tension. "She got out of surgery a few hours ago..." He rubbed his chin, as if deliberating something, then looked back to the class. "At present, they think it'll take her four months to heal."

I felt tears spark to my eyes. What my friend was going through...pain throbbed dully in my head, as it had been all day. I ignored it, just thinking of Angela. Ballet dancers were injured all the time; it wasn't rare, even though at _Force _there weren't that many. But if I myself wasn't allowed to dance for four months...it would be terrible. Angela loved ballet. I'd seen it in her face, and in the way she worked. And of course missing four months of classes would mean she would fall far behind us...I pulled my knees up to my chest, staring at a speck of dust on the floor.

Edward exhaled and clapped his hands together, "Positions, please!" He frowned suddenly. I saw who he was looking at. "Who are you?" He asked, walking over.

Peter, who I'd thought to be rather shy, now stood up straight, his chin raised. "Peter Davidson."

Edward's eyes narrowed, "You're a second year. Why are you here?"

"I'm Miss. Swan's partner," said Peter.

I waited for some reaction from Edward, some tiny show of _something_ at my name, but he just looked Peter up and down very slowly, studying him, then looked behind him, out the window and off into the distance. He seemed caught on a thought, just for a few seconds. He snapped back to the class. "Hurry up!" He said, returning to the front of the class. "Promenades!"

I stood up. A horrible wave of pain crashed around my head. My vision was shrouded again by yellow. I pressed a hand to my forehead. Oh God! Then it began to clear again, and the pain left me with one final stab. I took a deep breath and hurried over to Peter. The piano had already started, and he quickly put his hands on my waist.

Nerves thrummed in my stomach, even though they had no reason to. It felt strange to have Peter's hands on me when Edward was here. I knew why; everything that I lacked in my partnership with Peter – the emotion, the connection, the...passion – I had had when I'd danced with Edward. And now he was here, in the very same room, and it seemed as though the feeling I had had on that day was so close, but out of reach.

I swallowed, telling myself to just forget it. "Promenades!" Edward called, "And five six seven eight and step up two three..." I stepped up onto Pointe. My head swirled as Peter began to turn me. I felt that nauseous lump deep in my throat. "Miss. Mallory, stand up straight!" Edward circled Lauren and Tyler, adjusting their hands and pushing Lauren up taller. "One more promenade then down into courus for eight counts! Five six seven eight and down! Courus right!"

I felt dizzy as I made the tiny courus. "Where are the arms?" Edward demanded. Peter's hands went away from my waist, and for once I felt I needed them. I tried to breathe in as I raised my arms to fifth.

"And arabesque step and up! Keep _control!_" Edward ordered, exasperation in his voice. I glanced in the mirror. He was looking at the whole class, his hands on his hips. I looked at them as well. Even with my horrible state, I had to admit Peter and I were looking pretty sharp. Others wobbled or let down their legs. Violet was gripping her partner's shoulder. I felt like slouching over Peter's hand which lay on my belly, my head felt so heavy. _Toughen up, Bella! _I yelled at myself. I took a deep breath and lengthened my neck. I had to keep my composure, I was doing okay, I was fine.

"And now down, four two steps forward and into pirouette!" It seemed like pirouettes were the worst thing I could possibly do right now, but I launched into the fast spin, Peter's hands ringing around me. Nausea was tugging at me now, in my belly and my throat. Oh God... "And out into developpe!" I stopped the pirouette, and wobbled dangerously. _Come on! _ I lifted my leg out in front of me, still bent. "And stretch out! Hold it! Keep holding!" Edward gave an exasperated sigh. The piano stopped.

"What the hell," he began, walking between the dancers to the front of the class, "do you think you are all doing?" His lips were pursed, hands still on his hips.

After a few moments, Eliza eventually stepped forward and said, "we didn't really have to...you know, worry about it with Madame Wright."

Edward folded his arms, "so you're entirely reliant on your teacher, Miss. Richardson?"

Eliza bit her cheek, looking guilty, "I guess..."

Even though he was only addressing her, everyone felt guilty, and he knew. Edward sighed, running a hand through his messy bronze hair. He looked out at the class. I'd noticed all along, but hadn't thought properly of it; he never looked to where Peter and I were.

"None of you will ever succeed in ballet if you have to have someone to make sure you're keeping to the standards," he stepped forward, looking at my class. "It doesn't matter if you don't have your teacher, or if you're tired, or if you're frustrated," a muscle in his jaw twitched, "there are _no _excuses. You dance to your standards and when you reach them you set higher ones. You _never _lower them, you _never _get complacent and for God's sake, you _never _get sloppy!" My class was silent, his words sinking into each and every one of us.

I looked at Edward, feeling something stir in me. He was so very right.

He held his gaze on the class a few moments longer before letting his folded arms drop to his sides. "Rows of three," he said, "we're doing combinations, and if any pair performs sloppily then they will do it again until they get it right." He raised his chin and clapped his hands, "hurry up!"

"Someone's touchy," muttered Lauren as we all went to the back.

"You in particular, Miss. Mallory," Edward murmured from the front of the studio, looking nonchalantly at his black wristband, "should be thinking about standards. I'm sure Mister Crowley is sick of have to push you round your pirouette."

I glanced at Tyler. He was looking down awkwardly. Lauren huffed and went to the back of the rows.

Edward gave himself a little smile before looking back at us. "Alright, first combination. Ladies courus up for eight, arms second to fifth. Then arabesque. Gentlemen run up and catch the arabesque. Ladies curl the working leg around a little. Promenade and finish." I pictured it in my head quickly. "First line up! Mrs. Gerran," he nodded to her, and she began a slow tune. "Five, six, seven, eight. Slowly, Miss. Andrews! Feel the music! Mister Smith, keep your feet in, good and plie down to finish. Next group up!"

Nerves suddenly shot through me. Only three pairs – he would have to look at me..._that doesn't matter, he's only your teacher...just your teacher, Peter is your partner, you are just his student..._

"And next group!" The dizziness suddenly returned as I échappéd to pointe. I raised my arms, going from outstretched to above my head and back down, as if flying. I couldn't wobble, not now. My head throbbed; I could see little lights dancing around the room. "Miss. Stanley keep your posture! Arabesque!" I held my breath and let my leg up. Peter gracefully ran and caught me in the arabesque, then turned me around. I had to keep my head straight, though it felt like the insides were spinning.

Remembering the next move, I quickly curled my leg around Peter, effectively circling his waist. I could feel the heat from his body.

"Mister Davidson..." I glanced up at Peter's name. Edward was frowning at me and Peter, his eyes avoiding my face. It was the first attention he'd shown me all lesson; I was more excited than I should have been. He studied our position. I glanced in the mirror behind him, and saw myself, arms reaching out, leg bend in a curl around another dancer. And I saw Peter, his hands on my waist, standing with perfect posture, his eyes straight ahead, completely blank.

I refocused on Edward. He took a breath through his nose and looked away from us, the muscle in his jaw twitching ever so slightly. "And plie," he said to the windows, his face still tense as Peter and I plied and then rose up again. I tried to work out his expression, but the sparkling lights had returned, glimmering around everywhere. The stabbing in my head seemed to go in time, as did the horrible swirling in my stomach. I shuffled to the side of the studio and back to the line.

"He missed the promenade," muttered Peter, already in line.

I nodded, but I didn't really care. My headache pulsed insistently hard at me, probably worsened by my confusion about Edward.

We performed several more combinations, with many stops and starts for other pairs as Edward went over details. But every time Peter and I performed, he watched passively. There wasn't much to correct. Peter was, of course, flawless. And I was managing to keep composure. But my headache _was _getting worse.

"Right," Edward said eventually. Lights sparkled around him. I gripped the barre as I swayed. Oh God... "Now we'll move on to four pairs at a time. Four ladies one side, four gentlemen the other. Tour jetes across, crossing over so you swap sides. Second time come halfway across to meet your partner. Sidestep into a line. Développé right, two steps and grand battement, then développé left, same thing. Leap right, leap left. Pirouettes, then finish passé out to développé." He grinned at the class, "Now we will see who's been listening." He clapped his hands, "first group up!"

As soon as I could, I turned my back and fully leant on the bar. I had the horrible sick feeling that I used to get when I spun around too much on the tire swing at school. But I had mastered the dizziness from pirouettes ages ago. I tried taking deep breaths in, out, in, out...my vision fogged up again, the pain increasing in my head. I bit my lip and held out until it cleared. "Next group!"

"Bella," Peter said. I turned around. I was going to be fine...I quickly recounted the steps in my head. Run, meet, développé left, battement, other way same thing, leaps, pirouette, développé. Battements were like high kicks – straight up, straight down to the side. I did not feel like doing them. I then hurried to the right side of the studio, lining up with Lauren, Megan and Violet.

"Five six seven eight and running..." Hey, didn't I know this tune? It was Alexandre something or other...crap! I flitted across the stage, way too many counts behind the others. "And turn, yes and meet them! Good, gentlemen kneel," Peter kneeled, offering me his hand. I took it, my head now feeling extremely light. "And to the line." Peter and I skipped into line beside Megan and her partner. "And développé right, and step step..." Oh God, what was I doing? My legs were crossing awkwardly, almost throwing me off balance. I did a weak battement and then went back to Peter for the next move. "Good and now same thing on the left." I did the two steps better this time, and let my leg stretch out and fly up.

"Hey!" Megan shouted. Mrs. Gerran stopped playing.

What? I looked around. Peter was far away on my left...and I was right next to Megan...I'd gone the wrong way... "God I'm sorry," I said to her. I could have kicked her in the head if I'd been just a tiny bit closer...oh God, I'd never been this bad at directions...pain shoved violently through my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and mashed my hand against my forehead. Couldn't it just go away?

I opened my eyes, the pain dying down to the normal throb again. I stifled a gasp. Edward was right in front of me, looking at me with concern, and once more, he was frowning. "What's wrong?" He asked me.

"I'm fine," I said quickly.

"Your head?" He glanced at the hand still up against it.

I swallowed, "I'm fine." I repeated.

Edward raised a dark, sceptical eyebrow. Another wave of dizziness rolled through me. I swayed momentarily, the sickness returning to my stomach. "Dizzy?" Edward asked.

I felt utterly powerless, but I still told him, "I'm okay."

"No, you're not," he said back.

I raised my chin, though I could hardly make myself look taller than him, "I think I know when I'm okay and when I'm not, Sir." Calling him 'sir' seemed strange...foreign.

Edward sighed wearily. "Untie your shoe," he said.

I frowned, "what?"

"Untie your shoe, Miss. Swan."

"Why?" I asked. They were perfectly fine.

"Why not?" He countered. I confusedly sat down, wondering what an Earth he was doing. I picked out the knot in the ribbons and my shoe fell loose. Then I did my right, and then I looked up at him, waiting.

"Now tie it up again," he said, gesturing to my shoe. My head throbbed as I grabbed the ribbons.

I looked up at Edward as I tied, "What is the point of this?"

Edward was looking at my shoe, his eyebrows raised. He nodded to it, "To prove _that."_

I glanced down. The ribbons weren't the neat 'x' and circle that I'd been easily doing. Instead, they were a loose, useless tangle...just like this morning. I sighed, suddenly exhausted. I couldn't tell my right from my left, I couldn't remember the steps for my solo, I couldn't keep in time with the music, _I couldn't even tie up my pointe shoes!_ What the hell was wrong with me?

"Mrs. Gerran, would you please look after the class for a few minutes?" Edward asked her. Mrs. Gerran pushed up her glasses and smiled a yes.

Edward looked back down to me. He offered me his hand. I tentatively took it.

Electricity suddenly shot up my hand, and Edward and I locked stares. There was nothing teacher-student about it. At that point, it was as if Edward and me were together, as one...becoming entirely equal within a single look...equal, and connected...but that was impossible...it seemed as if we both shared that thought, and we both snapped out of it.

He pulled me up and then let go as quickly as he could.. He turned and was quickly at the door. For just a second, I thought he was storming out again like last time. I felt a horrible pain blossoming in my chest, but then he turned again, holding the door open for me. I hurried past him, into the cool corridor. I yanked off my loose shoes and held them, confused and slightly...bedazzled.

Edward leaned back into the studio for a second, "I want to see that combination perfected by the time I get back, yes?"

"Yes, sir," I heard my class chorus.

He shut the door. Suddenly, the corridor became a strange, unknown place. Edward began walking. I had to take long steps to keep up with him as we headed for the stairs.

"Where are we going?" I asked, feeling like a child.

"To Doctor Hill's office," he replied shortly.

"I'll get better," I said. The last thing I needed right now was for this Doctor Hill to deem me unfit for classes for even just a day. I could not miss another tech class, not when my solo piece was in shreds. "I don't need to go."

"You do," Edward said sharply as we reached the stairs.

"I can't," I said, stopping.

He turned around, looking incredulous, "why not? You have a concussion; you have to see a doctor."

I bit my lip, looking down at my stocking feet. "You don't know if I have a concussion."

Edward nodded, conceding. Then looked up at me, "which is why we're going to the doctor; to find out."

I sighed, exasperated, and continued down the stairs silently.

The third door on the right of the stairs held the plaque:

_Dr Martin Hill, Physiotherapist_

Edward knocked. "Come in," came a man's voice.

Edward opened the door and we went in. It looked like any other doctor's surgery; a high bed with just a pale blue sheet, a couple of armchairs, several cupboards and many posters on the mint green walls. I looked at a few;

_Ballet: the Art of Arthritis; _

_Eating Disorders for your Échappés; _

_Pointe Shoes: the Danger in Pink; _

_The Truth about Tutus;_

_Ballet befriends Bulimia;_

_Tondues and Tendinitis._

What on Earth? Since when did posters like these end up in a ballet school?

Doctor Hill sat at a corner desk, a laptop in front of him. He turned in his chair. "Ah, Edward Masen," he said, standing up. He wore studious horn-rimmed glasses and his neat brown beard was flecked with grey, as was his balding hair. His face was podgy and round, but not unpleasant. He was very short, though; only a little taller than me. "Another torn muscle?" He inquired.

Edward grimaced and shook his head. A torn muscle? That had to have put him back a few months... "Miss. Swan has a concussion." He said.

Doctor Hill turned to me, "Hello Miss...Swan, is it?" I gave a half-hearted smile. He looked at me over the top of his glasses, inky black eyes scrutinizing me, "Tell me, Miss. Swan, did you do your warm ups today?"

"Yes sir," I nodded. I'd managed to do those, at least.

He shook his head distastefully, "Warm ups are extremely dangerous," he said. "And to do them without teacher supervision as you do in this academy is truly ridiculous." I blushed and looked down at my hands. He waited a moment longer, "Have a seat." I slipped gratefully into a chair. Edward sat next to me, but made sure our shoulders didn't touch. "So," he began, sitting back in his own chair and crossing his legs. "How did you get this concussion?"

"I probably don't even have one," I told him. "Just a headache."

He pressed his lips together in disdain. "How long have you had a headache for?"

"Since breakfast, maybe?" I tried to work out if I'd felt anything last night...if there was one thing I _did _want to go away, it was my headache.

"Have you experienced any dizziness or nausea?"

I bit my lip, "yes."

He nodded slowly, writing something down on a clipboard he'd produced out of nowhere. "Have you had any trauma to the head recently?"

"No," I told him.

"No falls or maybe fights?"

I shook my head. "Nope." The word 'fall' sparked a memory though. Angela, she'd fallen. I remembered it now, her swaying, and then crashing, crashing into...Oh God...I looked up at Doctor Hill hesitantly. "I can't quite remember what happened...but I think I blacked out yesterday, after Angela's fall...she fell into my partner, and he lost his hold on me and I fell...but he caught me, and then..." I frowned. What _had _happened next?

"Wait, you were in that accident?" Edward asked incredulously.

I nodded. Before Edward could say anything else, Doctor Hill butted in. "Temporary memory loss is a sign of concussion. If you fell, then it's quite likely you hit your head on the ground."

"How serious is this?" Asked Edward.

Doctor Hill shrugged, "As Miss. Swan hasn't had any further black-outs, I would say it was grade two at the most. The memory loss is a little worrying, but there is little we can do to get that back. No vomiting?" He asked me.

"Nope," I said.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a torch. "Just lean forward for me," I complied, and he shined the little torch into my left eye, then my right. Satisfied, he clicked it off and put it back in the drawer. "The strong effects of a concussion don't last too long. Rest until Saturday at least and you should be fine."

"You mean no ballet?" I asked sharply, though of course that was what he meant.

"None," he said, then pointed to one of his posters, _"Stay away from ballet, your life gains a year every day."_

"I can't stay off that long." I told him, giving a mental eye roll at the damned poster. This was exactly what I had feared. This could _not _happen, not before the review.

"You will, Miss. Swan. Doctor's orders," he gave a twisted smile, "now I'll go and get you a prescription of Tylenol." He stood up and went through a door by the desk, labelled _'Staff Only.' _As soon as the door shut, Edward was onto me.

"Why the _hell _didn't you tell anyone?" He demanded. "I had no idea there was anyone other than Angela and Ben involved!"

I huffed, "I think a girl screaming on the floor with a broken shoulder is slightly more important."

Edward stared at me with disbelief, "A concussion could be just as serious."

"But it isn't," I pointed out, "I'm fine. And I'm not the one in hospital."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, "this is just like with Mike. I couldn't believe you didn't tell him anything."

"I didn't know what it was meant to feel like! I'd never done pas de deux before!"

"God, everyone know it's a responsibility to say if something's not right!"

"What?" I snapped, "After last week I just assumed that walking out the door was how that worked."

That stopped him short, and he glared contemptuously at the floor. Finally he looked at me. "I walked out because I realized that I had taken you way out of your depth."

"What, you thought I wasn't coping?"

"You could hardly cope with the simple lift Madame Wright wanted; I saw the fear in your face. I did an over head, without any warning, with a first year. And worse, a first year who has no background in Pas de Deux or the trust or the emotion that comes with it."

"What the hell?" I exclaimed. "So you just assumed that I was – "

"Interesting conversations you ballet dancers have." Doctor Hill had returned from the other room, a pill bottle in his hand. With his other hand, he pointed to another poster: _Would you sacrifice mental stability for flexibility?_

Worn raw with anger, I stood and stuck my hand out for the pills impatiently. "Take one every two hours, no less. Take two if it gets very bad. And remember, no ballet until Saturday. I'll explain to your teachers."

"Thank you, Sir," I said mechanically, then spun on my heel and launched out of the door, eager to get away from _him. _Out in the entrance hall, people were heading through to dinner. Taking a deep breath to try and compose myself, I fought against the tide of students coming down the stairs.

I had my pointe shoes in hand, and my ipod lay upstairs in my trunk. I set my shoulders and lifted my chin.

By Sunday night, I would prove to Edward Masen that I was _not _an inexperienced, clueless first year.

* * *

I put my alliteration to good use!

Anyways (what a weirdo, that amberdeen), please review and let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

Hello all!

EDWARDS POV:

So, I've had a few reviews suggesting a chapter in our dear Cavalier's point of view. There's great temptation in this, but I have a bit of a thing about changing POV, which I shan't go into detail about. Sooo I was thinking about writing another story of the first section (we're almost ending the first section now) of Clair in Edward's point of view.

Sound like a plan? Let me know!

Thank you very much for reviewing!

I have had had a funny sort of writer's block and it has been helpful to hear your view on what on Earth is going on at _Force_ :D

All of Me - Jon Schmidt

Babbino - Puccini

Swan Lake - Tchaikovsky, my one true love...Nutcracker Grand Pas is...ahhh!

Clair de Lune - well, I hope you know

Penche - en pointe with no partner or barre is very difficult (for a ballet student, at least) look up on google images for a piccy!

REVIEW and ENJOY!

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I knew it was against the rules to use one of the studios without permission, but somehow I didn't think Madame Cox would dispute my being here – at least, if she hadn't found out about my concussion yet. I crept down the quiet corridor. All the studios were empty; it was dinnertime, after all. I found an unlocked one near the end.

Before I went in, I glanced at the last door on the left. I'd peered in that day and seen the most striking, beautiful sight I had ever seen. The Edward Masen then seemed different than the one he showed now...I shook my head and launched through the other studio door, my anger and irritation brewing up again inside of me. _"A first year." _He'd said it like it was a terrible thing; like I was the very lowest of the low, like I knew nothing.

Sweet God, I would prove him wrong!

I plugged my iPod into the stereo and switched it on. Suddenly, calm, beautiful droplets of the piano came through the speaker. I took a deep breath in, my body relaxing into the notes. My hand instinctively rose and fell, like last night...the image of the dim studio, the last one on the left, came to me. I sighed as I watched the memory fly and land, strong and sure, his face a perfection of...

I pressed my finger hard onto the pause button, opening my eyes, though I hadn't realized I'd closed them. The urge to dance to that music tugged at me, but I forced it back with vehemence. That could not be my song anymore – not with that memory attached to it. I flicked back to my Ballet playlist. I found the piece for the review. _All of Me. _I set it to repeat and pressed play and began warming up, not bothering to put my shoes on yet. I didn't listen to the music as I sat and flexed my feet.

How dare he be so assuming? He'd only seen me dancing twice, and today had hardly counted because he hadn't shown me the slightest attention. How could he possibly judge me in such a short time? I stretched forward, easily grasping my toes, welcoming the burn in my legs. I wondered if he knew how late I'd started ballet. Maybe, like Charlie and Mom, he didn't think it was possible for someone like me to even come near the standards...

I huffed and grabbed my pointe shoes. I managed to tie them up this time, but I still watched carefully as I crossed and wound the ribbons. Then I stood and set the music back to the beginning.

I would be better than I was this morning!

I carefully lifted and held the arabesque. I counted out the hold and then changed legs. How could he even tell whether I was coping or not? I hadn't fallen to the ground crying or anything. One two three four...and then bend...I sloppily put my foot down and prepared for the leap. He was so patronizing! I came down in a hard plie, shooting up and doing another leap again, my arms flying out straight. He talked like I was a child, just because I was a first year. For God's sake, I was probably his _age! _I would prove it, I would show him...

I landed my last leap with an 'oof'. I was entirely out of time with the music. I stopped, realizing I hadn't been listening at all. I had been thinking about something entirely different than what Madame Cox's choreography was trying to portray.

I set the music back to the start again. I had to focus! I had to prove it to him! I set myself up in the arabesque this time, holding myself with perfect posture. Then I turned my foot to passé, making sure it touched just below the side of my knee. Six seven and then bend...and then pirouettes...and then...I glanced at myself in the mirror to check my alignment. My heart dropped in disappointment. My alignment was fine...it was as good as ever...but I realized that I looked utterly dead. I looked like...well, Peter.

This time I had done the choreography perfectly, but I may as well have been one of the wooden ballerinas holding up the banister of the grand staircase outside. Actually, I seemed to remember them having more expression than me.

"_No understanding of the emotion..." _

I slumped to the ground. All anger drained away, and all that was left was an ache in my chest, both desperate and frustrated. It was useless. _I _was useless. I wasn't connecting with the music, emotionally or time-wise. I couldn't make any connection when I was tied up in all my own problems.

I pulled my knees into my chest, curling up into a tight ball. I just felt out of place, like the music was too different from me to even act anything. I was worn and tired. I was nothing like a ballet dancer should be. I had let everything get on top of me and suffocate me. A true ballerina would be able to throw away everything else when she danced, and get inside the music, inside the moves, and become whatever the moves and music together portrayed.

All I could do was think of my own situation, let the anger and frustration I felt towards Edward take me over and just pray that my muscles remembered the moves. Or I could let my mind go blank and turn into the emotionless ballet-critic who watched herself move, but who didn't notice anything other than the bad turnout or the mistake in the was no way I could go into that dancer and dance that dance the way it should be danced. I was going to fail. I thought back to before I'd come to _Force. _I thought right back to before I'd even started ballet.

I was in Seventh Grade, and my mom, in an attempt to be more motherly instead of locking herself in her office to mark homework, bought tickets to see the Russian Ballet at the Pheonix theatre perform Swan Lake. She probably wouldn't have if she'd known what it would lead to...

I'd been quite eager to go. I liked the glitz of the theatre – I'd gone to plenty of Shakespeare before, – I liked the costumes and the formality and excitement. The fact that it was ballet didn't really change anything. The only encounter I could remember having of it was that scene in _Titanic _when Rose goes en pointe without any pointe shoes on. I'd thought how horribly painful it must have been, but I was indifferent to the rest. I had the vague idea of the stereotypical dancer – gay for the guy and anorexic for the girl – but that was as far as my knowledge, experience and interest went.

I had watched Act One – set at the royal court with the prince – with enjoyment. I liked the formations they made on the stage, I liked the way they showed the storyline without any words, and of course the prince was _very _handsome.

But it was at the beginning of Act Two when I'd felt something stir in me. I'd sat up in my seat because they were playing the theme of Swan Lake – it was one of my favourite pieces at the time, only topped by one other...I had listened to it so much, and I had to admit I was curious as to whether the orchestra would get it right. But when the Swans entered, all perfectly in sync with each other, I became transfixed.

It was like the music had taken on a whole new meaning, a whole new level. I watched them weave and run, pulling me and the harp into their world of the moonlit lake. They suddenly threw light on what the music _was. _It was like they harnessed it and made it into something greater than possible...I had watched the rest of the performance with bated breath. I'd discovered something more powerful than anything I had met before. Ballet.

I'd felt the hot tears stream down my cheeks as I'd watched Siegfried and Odette throw themselves into the lake to avoid being apart, and as the curtains closed on them rising up to heaven, I'd stood and clapped, my entire mind consumed in what had just been played out before me.

And as they had taken their curtain call, I had clapped harder, but truly I was staring at the dancer who had played Odette, watching her take a deep curtsy, smiling at the audience. I'd thought back to the impossible feats she had performed, the two and a half hours standing on the tips of her toes in those shoes which made her look impossibly tall and graceful, the way she seemed to express so much in the floating of her arms, in the anguishing pull of her body, in the joyous pirouettes – the only ballet word I knew – which made her turn into a blur of black and silver.

And of all things, I had liked the dances with her partner. The love that they expressed though beautiful turns and elegant steps and then the sheer triumph as he lifted her high above his head and made her seem to fly above the world. All the dancers seemed as though they were from a higher plane, it was if they had some higher understanding...I guessed it was like any story teller. My emotions had been their puppets, and now they dropped my strings and I was left staring open mouthed, wishing they could pick me up again.

But by the time we'd gotten home, that wish was had already begun to change. Mom had been happy to chat about how good looking the principal male had been, and about how awful the theatre coffee tasted, but I was thinking instead of ballet.

How could it have passed me by so many times before? How many times had I seen Jane Cartwright and her friend get taken out of class early to get to their ballet classes? How many times had I seen ads next to the movie section in the newspaper for the Seattle Ballet? How could I have regarded them passively? But more important than all these questions was the single, golden and irrefutably dangerous question: Could I become a ballet dancer?

I started classes a week later, back in Forks. Charlie had been puzzled by my sudden interest in something other than academia, but decided it might be good for me to do something other than equations and essays. Forks Ballet School was a two room studio at the back of the teacher, Mrs. Harcourt's, house.

She'd been somewhat unhappy at taking in a reclusive thirteen-year-old girl who's 'posture was that of a dead flower', but the class was very small, and she needed the income. Her husband had played the piano with much less finesse than Mrs. Gerran or Mister Woolston, but he could keep a beat, and so I learnt how to plie and relevé and perform tondues. Gradually I had moved up the ranks to a _very _shaky arabesque.

Eventually, she let me learn my first dance. Up until that point, my motivation had been the striking and goddess-like Odette, but when I first stood in front of an audience of my teacher, her husband and the five girls in my class, something changed.

It was to Puccini's _Babbino_, and it was extremely simple – a combination of chaînés and plies that would make Lauren snort with laughter, – but it was all my own, and as I'd twirled around the cramped studio in my cheap wrap skirt from the department store in Seattle, my heart soared high and I felt like laughing with glee at the feel of air parting for me, the new flex in my legs as jumped up and down, my arms now held long in front of me...I had never felt so graceful, so free in my life...

I opened my eyes, finding myself back in the polished and open studio at _Force de la Beauté. _Suddenly, the music for the review filled my ears, fitting right into place with the irrepressible joy in my belly. I breathed in, letting the notes of the piano surround me, fast and flowing. I rested my chin on my knees, listening to the music for the first time. I found a smile pushing the corners of my lips. It was like a description of joy...quick twinkling notes all joining together...and then the great climax as it went higher and higher, I imagined pirouettes, and then it burst back into the chorus a final time before it ended, the last note slowly fading away.

I waited a second, a lull where I could have gone back to the Bella Swan of a few minutes ago, and then scrabbled up to the stereo to set it back to the beginning.

I didn't bother counting; I simply lifted into the arabesque. But I decided it wasn't really enough, listening to the rolling down of the notes. Gradually, I lifted my leg higher and higher, until my head and upper body were upside down and my legs were almost a horizontal line. I almost lost my balance, realizing I was doing a penche _en pointe! _How on Earth?

Fighting the need to look up and see myself, I lifted my arms as the music required, and then came up, just in time for tentative step turns. I felt like I was finding my feet, just like I had back at Mrs. Harcourt's. Then I took three more steps and curtsied. It was strange, but Odette's curtsies had always been at the back of my mind as one of the most beautiful steps in ballet.

The music began its first quick notes, and I began the pirouettes, similar to the old choreography, but this time it was as if I had finally got it. It was _Babbino_ again, and I realized I could dance! I turned them to fouettes – sticking out your leg between each turn – as the music gained intensity, and then it burst out it the melody, and so did I, every ounce of my essence flowing into my body, making me leap and spin and reach my hands up into space. I danced with such happiness, laughing as the music spurred me into a timeless scene.

It didn't matter what had happened in the past, or what may happen in the future; I was dancing, and it was wonderful!

When it reached the climax at the end, I pirouetted round and round, my arms raising higher and higher and then coming down sharply. I danced quickly through the last chorus and then the end came. I lifted my leg, pulled my arms back and was once again in an arabesque. I stayed like that until that last note faded, my eyes closed, listening for the remnants of that note.

Then I opened them and promptly sunk to the floor, my breath pumping and sweat beading down my neck. I laughed quietly to the silent studio that had only a moment ago been crackling with movement. I put a hand to my smiling lips, giddy with the thought that I had managed to find the connection. Now I just had to work out how to move that story into the proper choreography...but I could do a _penche! _And it fit better with the music. And I liked doing the curtsy...but Madame Cox wouldn't be happy if I changed anything...

I'd forgotten that my iPod was on repeat, and so the piano keys began to play for the fourth time. I stood up. The feeling I'd had was too tempting. I began the dance again, reasoning that I would try and use the normal choreography and that it would be just as great. But to perform the arabesque without my newly found penche felt insubstantial, and I ended up breaking away halfway through and trying to remember those exhilarating steps I'd done last time.

It wasn't as thrilling this time, but I still felt the connection at the back of my mind, the pure joy of dance. Again, the piece ended. I stayed standing. Now that I had done it, I would not be able to dance to the old choreography. It just wasn't..._me. _

I knew it was bad form, to change a choreographer's work, but _All of Me _had never been danced to before, so it wasn't as if I was changing Ivanov's Pas de Quatre. I prayed Madame Cox would allow it. If I worked it so that it had no effect on the class choreography, she might just let me. But it would have to be foolproof.

I worked for hours, sometimes replaying just a few bars over and over again, trying to work out what on earth I was doing, committing everything to memory, making sure I was where I was meant to be in relation to the class formations. I had never choreographed anything before – fortunately the connection with the music was a strong guide. My muscles ached, my head throbbed, and more than once I had to pause for horrible spells of dizziness, but I never stopped completely.

The original fervour of proving myself to Edward Masen returned to me, but it waited obediently in the background. I knew that what I was creating would have to have some sort of impression at least – even if it was falling out of my penche and snapping my leg...

It was only when my headache began to feel like a pounding drum that I switched off my iPod and sat down on the floor, weary, sore, but so...fulfilled. It was dark outside, and the moon was concealed under a thick blanket of cloud. I'd only bothered to turn one row of lights on and it created an oddly comforting darkness around me. I pulled my heels in close and painfully pressed my knees down, realising a better warm-up might have been a good idea. I bent forward and held it, resting head in my hands, letting my breathing lower a little.

I would show it to Madame Cox in the morning. Hopefully my memory loss wouldn't creep up on me in the night. I had to show her that it could only improve the performance. I had to show her the Bella Swan that my choreography brought out.

I took off my pointe shoes, feeling that horrible burn which told me I had formed several new blisters in the past few hours. Retrieving my iPod, I glanced at the time. 9.05. Crap! My headphones and shoes swung violently in my hand as I burst out into the corridor, and right into another person.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed automatically, but then saw who it was.

"Watch where you're going," snapped the girl whose absence I had had the privilege of the past week. Tanya Denali towered over me by two inches, but she seemed even taller. Tonight, her black leotard had a graceful trail of golden Gemstones crossing it. She wore a black wrap around skirt, and a dance bag hung from her shoulder with _Tanya Denali _stitched on it in, of course, gold. "Oh hey Bella Swan," she said, a horribly fake smile pressing through her glossed lips.

"Tanya," I acknowledged. I wasn't entirely sure how to act. Things had been different that day in the dining hall, in front of the entire school. I'd always found that open enemies weren't always private ones – some people were bitches with their friends but bearable one-on-one.

Though apparently this wasn't the case with Tanya. "Isn't it time for first years to be in bed?" She asked, sickly sweet.

I raised my chin, "Isn't it time for you to stop being such a bitch?" I asked back, "You know that sort of thing can be devastating for your career." It was as weak as wet string, but I got the required response.

She raised an eyebrow, glaring down at me, opening her mouth to say something when someone else came into the corridor. Both our head snapped to the stairs as Edward strode down. He stopped when he saw me.

"Bell – Miss Swan..." Edward faltered. My breath sharpened. He recovered and looked me over, frowning at the pointe shoes in my hand. "Why are you here?" He demanded, stepping towards me. "You're not meant to be doing ballet."

Tanya snorted, "Too true, Eddie. She doesn't have the height...Or maybe that's just a first year thing..." I glanced at her, and then remembered what Angela had told me, about how Edward was her ticket into the American Ballet. I was a threat, so of course she had to show me up in front of him. Though, if she'd heard the conversation we'd had a few hours ago she wouldn't have any need to be worried.

I turned back to Edward, "I feel fine," I told him, ignoring Tanya. "You're not the only one who believes there are no excuses to lower your game." We were back to the same conversation again...

He gave me a hard, stony stare. "I believe in safety," he said.

My eyes narrowed, "Because it's really safe to close your eyes when you're holding an _'__afraid'_ and _'__helpless'_ first year above your head." It hurt to mar the memory of it by using the dance as a feeble comeback at the very man I shared it with. I felt sick with myself, but I felt the anger that I'd pushed to the back of my mind surge forward again. "Though if you even knew_ anything_ about safety you wouldn't have left us with Madame Wright," my throat tightened, "You wouldn't have let Angela fall."

"Bella..." he stepped forward, his lips grimacing, his face pained. I felt that horrible prickling in the back of my eyes, telling me I needed to leave, fast.

"Save it," I muttered, brushing past him and walking quickly down the corridor. The scent of deodorant and sweat swirled around me intoxicatingly for a brief second, but my breathing shuddered and I hurried on.

"I told you she has problems."

"Shut up, Tanya," I heard him mutter.

I charged up the stairs. How the hell had it gotten from my rule-breaking to Angela? Why had I had to bring it up? I blinked away the stupid tears. Did I even feel any anger for Edward not being there? Or was it my own selfish problem with him ignoring me? I reached my dorm. Madame Bansch, who was still relieving Madame Esme, stood at the door. "Late, Miss Swan?" She said angrily, her frizzy hair accentuating her expression.

"Sorry Madame," I said, curtsying.

"If we were in Russia," she rolled her 'r', "You would be expelled for your tardiness."

"I was rehearsing," I said, holding up my shoes.

Her thick eyebrow pointed up, her hands on her hips. "Perhaps that is not so bad, then." I doubted any of the other teachers would say that. She stared me up and down with black, beady eyes. "In, Miss Swan, go in."

I nodded hastily and slipped past her into my dorm.

Everyone else was already asleep, so I got changed into my PJs in the dark. Then I slipped under my comforter, my mind still whirring with what had just gone down. It took me a while, lying in the quiet darkness of the dorm, to calm myself. But gradually the storm dissipated, and I was left with the bubbling excitement of my dance.

* * *

By God, its only ten pm! That must be a record!

I am anxious to actually write some dialog, so hopefully there will be an update within the next three days!

Please Review :D


	12. Chapter 12

Hello! I read Last Sacrifice VampAcademy last night! Ahhh! So good!

Firstly: I have a poll up about a sequel to Clair!

Admittedly, it is a little earlier but I'd hate to cut then find I needed the rope again later!

Secondly: To a Miss SOPHIE...

Your email address didn't come up on your review! I'd love to talk about it, so could you possibly make an account, as I can't reply to anonymous messages!

Thirdly: EDWARDS POV!

I loved hearing your thoughts on writing an EPOV (details in Chap 11)! I'll tell you when I start posting.

Fourthly: To everyone who reviewed:

I can't thank you enough;

Your insights into what's happening is immensely helpful and you really do spur me on to write the next chapter!

REVIEW and, of course, ENJOY!

* * *

In the night, I dreamt I was one of the swans circling the Prince and Odette. I could hear the music, feel the heat of the lights on me, the dry-ice welling around my ankles. I felt beautiful, like I was truly a swan-lady, destined to be trapped in this moonlit lake for all eternity, but who danced each night in the swirling mist, showing her despair. And as dawn came, my sisters and I would be forced into the reeds, and be returned as full swans, waiting for night once more.

I spun, feeling white netting swish on my legs. It was not so bad, for the night was long and free...but then I saw who we circled.

The bronze haired prince stood, staring with protective, loving green eyes at a beautiful, hazel eyed Odette as she hurried to him. He lifted her high above him, and they stared deeply at each other, the love, the despair they shared between them so potently strong. My imagination made it breathtakingly beautiful, which wrought me to the point of pain as I followed my sisters, readying to turn into real swans. The sun was on the horizon. But the two stayed, proclaiming their love to each other once more.

And then, as the music reached its climax, as the evil Rothbart's magic commanded her to turn, they kissed. One agonizing, heart-wrenchingly beautiful kiss. And I, the last swan to leave, stopped in my transformation, a sudden pain in my chest as I watched him lift her high once again. And she looked as if she were flying, as if she were free...

It all faded to darkness, but the ache in my chest stayed as I wished, prayed I was her. Wanting nothing more. I lay suspended in the outskirts of consciousness for a moment, blinking back strange tears. Perhaps I would have been happy as a swan, if I'd been able to dance each night, dance until the sun rose...but not when such love as that was possible...

"Morning Bella!"

Finally waking up, I opened my eyes. "Morning Eliza." I was glad to see that I hadn't woken up too late – everyone else had just started to get up as well.

"_So?" _Demanded Eliza, an excited smile on her face, her frizzy auburn hair slipping out of her ponytail.

I frowned, slipping out of bed and going to my trunk. My muscles were stiff. "So what?"

She rolled her eyes, kneeling down next to me, _"So_ what happened last _night?"_ She almost squealed, bringing us to the attention of the whole dorm. "What did Edward want with you?"

"He took me to Doctor Hill," I told her, "I have a concussion."

She frowned, "What? When did that happen?"

I tugged my towel and clothes out, "When Angela fell, she knocked into me and Peter. I'm pretty shaky on the memory, but I must've bashed my head on the floor."

"Oh my God," she said, a hand to her mouth, "I totally forgot you and Peter were doing it as well. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I reassured her, standing up. "Did I miss anything in Pas de Deux?"

She shook her head and giggled, "We were all too rowdy so Mrs Gerran started playing Christmas Carols. We had a choir session."

I raised an eyebrow, "Christmas Carols?"

She giggled and shrugged, "We're dancers, not singers – they were the only ones in our repertoire."

I laughed as I shook my head, then headed for the shower room.

The hot water did a lot to loosen up my muscles, and I relaxed back against the walls, letting the last remnants of that dream fall away. It had been ridiculous anyway. At least, my emotions had been. I began to focus back on my dance. Today, after breakfast, I would show it to Madame Cox. Thankfully I hadn't forgotten the movements, despite the memory loss my concussion seemed to have given me, and so I recounted all of them, hearing the music in my head. Hopefully she would like it. I'd tried to make it as unobtrusive as possible to the rest of the class. But what if she didn't like the idea of changing her own choreography? And I wasn't a choreographer in any respect...except that the way I'd danced it yesterday had felt...right.

"Bella?" Came Eliza's anxious shout from the front of the shower room.

"Yeah?" I called back.

"You should probably hurry up, Madame Bansch is waiting."

Crap! "Coming!" I told her. I shut off the shower and hopped out, quickly getting into my tights and leo.

When I got back, everyone else was already lined up in front of their beds with army discipline. Madame Bansch stood beside mine, which was unmade with my clothes hanging out of my trunk. "Late again, Miss Swan?"

"Sorry ma'am," I said, standing awkwardly in front of her with my towel and toilet bag.

She pursed her lips and looked me up and down, taking in my leotard, "I am told you are not to take any ballet classes today, Miss Swan."

I felt like groaning. I'd thought maybe Doctor Hill would forget to tell my teachers and I would be able to dance anyway. "Ma'am, I'm fine," I said, "I can dance."

She put her fists on her hips. "Miss Swan put your normal clothes back on. You will not be dancing today."

"Ma'am..."

"_Zatknis!"_ She roared. Suddenly, her large, angular face became a bright red. "You veel not be dancing today!"

I had the common sense to not say anything else. She stared at me for a moment. I thought her eyes might burst, the way the veins were popping out. Eventually, her nostrils flared, she spun on her heels and marched out of the room, with a final yell of, "And I veel be checking!" The door slammed shut.

There was only a second of silence.

"Well that's just _great,"_ drawled Lauren. "You're bad enough as it is and now you can't even rehearse."

I sighed, "Shut up, Lauren." I knelt down to my trunk and yanked out some clothes.

"Why should I?" She snapped, coming towards me, "You've managed to let our entire class down."

I stood back up. The girls from Master Rodriguez's class were all trying to hide their pleasure. Madame Cox's class had just lost their soloist – the victory was theirs. "It wasn't exactly my fault that I got a concussion, Lauren."

"Oh please, you were faking that to get with Edward Masen."

I rolled my eyes, "Are you really that thick, Lauren?" I pulled on my track pants and Forks High hoodie over my leo and tights.

"Madame Cox will just cut the solo," said Jessica.

I tried not to show how much that idea pained me; though storming out the door probably wasn't the best way of hiding it.

My fists clenched as I walked down the corridor. That could _not _happen! She could not cut my solo! Not when I had so much now to show...

"Bella!" Eliza and Violet were jogging to catch up with me.

I sighed. I was being selfish. Cutting the solo would be what was best for my class. And, after all, it was a _class _dance, not a Bella-Swan-needs-to-prove-herself-to-Edward-Masen-to-heal-her-hurt-pride dance.

"Bella," began Violet, trying for a sympathetic voice, "your solo was great and all, but we seriously need to rehearse properly and..." she looked at me hesitantly, her face caught in that weak too-bad smile, "well, even if you did get to rehearse, you weren't exactly...you know, very good?"

I shut my eyes for a moment, pressing my lips together, wondering myself what I was feeling. She didn't know about what I'd come up with last night...but then I didn't even know how good it was – no one had seen it.

"Not to say you don't have, like, talent..." Violet went on.

"Violet," I said tiredly, "don't worry about it. I get it."

She gave a nervous smile, "'kay."

We went down to the dining hall in merciful silence and sat down at our table. Outside, grey clouds shrouded the sky. I glumly began eating my fruit salad and yoghurt. I wished Angela was here. She may have thought that my solo should be cut, but at least we'd be able to talk about something else. I could tell her about what I'd come up with last night. Even now, Lauren and Violet were filling the boys in on how I couldn't rehearse. "Oh my _God!" _Groaned Tyler, rolling his head in his hands. "We're already struggling to get it nailed!"

"Yeah," put in Mike, "and Master Rodriguez's class is completely ready, costumes and everything."

"We get costumes?" Repeated Violet, perking up considerably.

I caught a movement in the corner of my eye, and turned to see Edward and Tanya sitting back with Alice Brandon and her friends. Tanya was chatting away to Rosalie, and Edward seemed to be deep in conversation with Alice, nodding seriously. Even though I knew better, he seemed so much older than seventeen. The boys in my year back in Forks hadn't seemed so...focussed. I remembered what he'd said about standards yesterday – before everything _else _he'd said – and I guessed that they had gotten them to where he was today. And when he taught...well I had to admit, he was as good as any other teacher here. He was dedicated, even when he had an audition for the American Ballet and he was just a student.

I sighed, returning my gaze to my own table. It was clear that underneath all my irritation, I still had that strange curiosity about him.

I decided I needed to explain to Madame Cox why I couldn't dance today. By the time I reached the studio, the whole class was grumbling. I sat down desolately in a corner and waited for her to arrive. Eliza and Violet came and sat next to me, but there wasn't much to talk about. Other people stood around stretching, giving me snide looks.

Megan was going on about how maybe _she _could do the solo. I knew that wouldn't happen – Madame Cox had made that solo for me, exactly to my strengths. Besides, it had been difficult for me to learn. The class choreography would be easier to change – it was mostly the beginning and the entrances, not the actual moves. Still, it would be difficult.

I picked at a thread in my old trackpants, watching with envy as Violet and Eliza tied up their pointe shoes. The worst thing was that I was totally fine; my headache only emerged occasionally, and I'd managed to eat breakfast without any declinations from my stomach. To stop me from dancing was just silly! Except, I remembered, Doctor Hill probably wanted as few people dancing at this school as possible. Perhaps half the _school _was off with 'serious' injuries diagnosed by him.

"Good Morning class!" Madame Cox entered. I quickly stood up, curtsying with everyone else.

"Good Morning Madame Cox," we chorused.

She clapped her hands, "It's Thursday, you have three rehearsals after this, four if you are lucky. No barre for the rest of the week – one would hope you've all learnt to balance without it by now. Positions for the beginning if you please! And one two three..." She turned to cue Mister Woolston.

Everyone looked at me as they went to their positions 'offstage'. I stood there dopily in the middle of the studio. Mister Woolston was already playing the introduction. God, it sounded even better on a live piano. The moves I'd created last night came automatically to my mind, but I shoved them back. I had to tell her, "Ma'am..." she turned around, looking me up and down. The piano was reaching the entrance of the class, but nobody moved.

"Stop!" She commanded. Mister Woolston cut off. I felt my heart sink lower. She took a step towards me, seeming incredibly tall. Her face was a little pale. "Why, Miss Swan, are you not dressed for class?"

I looked down, swallowing. I was letting my whole class down... "I'm not allowed to dance, ma'am." I said quietly.

"What?" She said sharply, "look at me, girl."

I hesitantly looked up, feeling as if I was back in the first grade, "Doctor Hill says I have a concussion," I told her, not wanting to look into those black eyes. "He won't let me dance until Saturday."

Madame Cox pursed her lips together and turned away from the class, putting her hands on the barre and leaning ever so slightly against it. The room was silent still. I swallowed again.

Time ticked by.

Eventually she turned, her face stiff. She didn't look at anyone. One eyebrow was raised slightly. I realized how much this meant to her; it was a chance for each class and teacher to show how good they were, and she'd wanted to break Master Rodriguez's hold on the title and show how good _we _were. I felt guilt course through me. With another three rehearsals it might just have come together, if I stuck to the original choreography, and, more importantly, if I was _here. _But now she would have to redo the whole thing. I knew I was an integral part of it all – that was just how she'd done it.

"You may leave then, Miss Swan," she said, still not looking at me. I wasn't worth looking at. Her voice turned bitter, "Clearly there's no point you being here if you can't even rehearse." I nodded and went over to my bag. I felt Madame Cox's eyes on me. "Begin in a line," she shook her head wearily, "we'll start again. David, music please," Mister Woolston dolefully began playing the piece I'd taken to so much last night. It no longer sounded happy.

I solemnly went to the door as the rest of my class lined up. I knew they were all looking at me. I had just ruined it for them...

"A _straight _line!" Madame Cox snapped harshly. I shut the door behind me, the noise immediately stopping. The corridor was quiet, though through each door came the muted sound of a piano or a teacher yelling. I turned and walked slowly to the stairs. What would I do now? The only non-practical class I had today was Ballet History in fifth period.

I ended up in the library. I'd discovered it last weekend, on Angela's tour. It was hidden away down a narrow corridor at the back of the ground floor's west wing. I'd only managed to go in a few times, with all that had been happening, but, despite the prospect of school work when I got here, I loved it.

It had been designed as a private library, with two high-backed chairs and a couch tilted to face a large fireplace. Moulded into the mantle were ballerinas, frozen in leaps and pirouettes, re-enacting the flames that now crackled inside the hearth. It seemed as though it was one of the few fireplaces in the academy that hadn't been boarded up. I was glad it hadn't been; it was too beautiful.

The library walls were lined with dark cherry wood bookcases, reaching right from the floor to the high ceiling. Like in every room, a chandelier hung from the rafters, the electric lights dimmed slightly. Large rectangular cherry wood tables were placed in two columns coming from the big Northern window.

I smiled to the one librarian, Mrs Bell, who sat at her usual writing desk by the door. The laptop she used for cataloguing looked very out of place. She smiled back. I was convinced I was one of her only visitors.

Right now, that was certainly true; with everyone at classes, the couches and tables were all empty. I had the place to myself. I dumped my books on the table closest to the window and sat down. Ignoring the large folder with study instructions, I put my head on my hands, pressing my knuckles into my forehead. I'd hated Madame Cox's reaction. I knew I could hardly have helped the concussion, but maybe if I'd reported it sooner, Doctor Hill would have pulled me out of classes when it _had _been bad, and I would only have missed one tech class...but that didn't matter; I hadn't, and now my class had to start all over again. I bit my lip, my fists clenched. I needed to calm down; I couldn't do anything about it now. I wearily sat up again.

My Calculus textbook stared ominously up at me. Normally, I would have shoved it away and tried doing some Science or English, but my mind needed numbing, and Calc had a way of doing that. I pushed my loose hair over my shoulder and got stuck in.

I worked for hours, happily – for once – getting lost in a world of limits and infinitesimals, where everything had a neat, logical answer in the end. The complete opposite from everything I'd found at _Force. _

Life at Forks High had been a lot simpler, that was for sure. I would get up, have breakfast, go to school, hang out with the other intellects from my year, chat easily about normal, teenage stuff, like guys and grades – we were nerds, after all – and I'd go to class and either get thoroughly bored, confused or breeze through with a mild interest, depending on the subject. Then I would leave in my battered Honda and go to Mrs Harcourt's house...

...and my life would actually begin. The girls had gradually come to accept me, though the five of them had been the Forks Ballerinas since they were little, and we got along as Mrs Harcourt taught us how to dance. She hadn't been in a world-renowned ballet company or anything, but she had so much knowledge of posture and balance and, most importantly for me at the beginning, a great understanding of the link between music and movement.

I had gone en pointe just six months after I'd begun ballet. My Mom reluctantly bought me my first pair of pointe shoes for my fourteenth birthday. They'd cost her a hundred dollars – a hundred dollars she'd have rather spent on clothes and books for me. I'd saved up and bought every pair since. God, I seriously needed new ones now...

I snapped back, realising I'd gotten totally off the graph I was meant to be working on. I glanced at the grandfather clock – it's face was painted with a scene from _Giselle, _and Giselle's arm was the hour hand, her leg the minute hand; it was slightly creepy that her limbs could do full rotations like that, but I liked the creativity.

Right now, it was nearing one, with Giselle's leg in a not _too _unbelievable Grande Battement. I cleared up my books, satisfied that I had almost two months worth of calculus to send back to my 'tutor' at the correspondence school. Rain beat against the large window. I looked out briefly at the vast grounds of _Force de le Beauté. _

Beyond the courtyard, well manicured lawns led down to the Vigernon Church, where services were apparently still held for the School and the town a couple of miles down the road. It was very British, particularly with the rain. To the Eastern side there was a walled garden that I had yet to explore, and to the West was the edge of a national forest. I had come a long way since the back room of Mrs Harcourt's house. A long way...but would I go any further? I turned away from the window and left the warm, safe library with a wave to Mrs Bell. I ran upstairs to drop off my books at my room, then joined the throng of students on the second floor heading down to lunch.

Once I'd gotten my plate, I found my classmates sitting around our table, their eyes tired, their faces grim. I hesitantly sat down at my usual place. Lauren sat up when she saw me. "You have dumped us in the biggest shit possible." She said, glaring at me.

I rolled my eyes wearily. My time with Mister Calculus had made my over-emotional mind clearer, and now I said in total defence, "I couldn't help but get a concussion, so don't blame me, Lauren. I'm not getting any pleasure out of not taking class and I would be right in there dancing with you if I could possibly," I cocked my head, raising an eyebrow, "Although, you seemed equally unhappy about me _having _the solo, so you of all people can hardly complain."

Lauren huffed, standing up with her plate in hand. Her dark eyes set on me nastily, "Don't fucking mess with me," she snarled.

"Only as much as you annoy me," I spoke calmly. She shoved back her chair and stormed over to another table. Jessica silently got up and followed.

"Jeez Bella," muttered Violet. I turned, frowning.

"What?" I asked.

"We're all tired," said Tyler, "you didn't have to be so harsh."

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, "Since when was sticking up for yourself such a crime?"

Eliza sighed, "Madame Cox gave us a really hard time. You stressed her out majorly."

"Yeah," agreed Mike, "We got all the flack for what you did."

I stared at him incredulously, then stood up abruptly. "It's pathetic that you blame me." I frowned, looking to Eliza and Violet, "You guys didn't this morning. Why now?"

"Bella, we didn't realise how hard it would be. You could have fought harder to rehearse with us. You could have just broken the rules and come to class."

"With Madame Bansch planning to check in?" I demanded.

Ben finally spoke up, "Was that the Russian woman?" He asked me.

I nodded.

"She did visit, a few minutes after you left." I gave him a small smile of thanks. He'd hardly spoken since Angela's fall.

Violet seemed a little irritated that he'd given that away. Like it was a game. "You still could have tried," she said. "It was horrible – Madame Cox was onto us about everything; she even gave Tyler a detention and she wouldn't let us have a break or anything. She went physco at Megan because she missed the new entrance. It was easier with you there," she said, "all we had to do was make you look pretty."

I stared at her. Even the others realized she'd said exactly what they'd wanted to avoid, "Oh my God! You're using me as a scapegoat because you're having to work hard now!" I put a hand to my head, unable to quite believe it, "You don't even understand that that's how you get places! You don't even bother to have standards! You just want to cruise along and bask in the glory of other people's work!" I let out a bark of laughter, picking up my plate, "I'm so sorry I can't be there for you to blame. Tough luck."

I spun on my heel and walked away. I knew our argument had made a lot of heads turn, but I couldn't be bothered worrying about my reputation. I was sick of it all – so, so sick of it. I saw Peter on the way out and brusquely told him not to bother coming to Pas de Deux today.

Then I stalked out of the dining hall, feeling utterly lost. Most people hadn't finished lunch yet, and so the entrance hall was empty. I walked slowly up the stairs. I didn't know what to think. Or what to do.

"Bella!" The owner of the voice didn't register with me at first.

I frowned, turning to face back down the stairs. Alice Brandon was hurrying up them, dressed in a black and white skirted leotard. When she reached me she gave me one look and said, "What's your next class?"

"Ballet History," I replied automatically.

"Good," She grinned and grabbed my hand. "That's skippable."

* * *

Please Review!

Hope for another chapter maybe even tomorrow (fingers crossed!)


	13. Chapter 13

Hello!

Right, so 'tomorrow' turned into a few days.

I have had horrible writer's block. The sort of writer's block which makes you concerned whether you're ever going to post another chapter at all.

So I am very pleased to give you this chapter! I got over my writer's block about half an hour ago with a very audible clunk, so I'm terribly happy!

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!**

Can't tell you how much I needed them, I really can't!

But I seriously would have given up if I hadn't had you guys - that's why fanfiction is great: feedback, support and people who tell you to hurry up (politely, if you please)!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Where are we going?" I asked as Alice flew up the stairs, dragging me behind her. Skipping class had never been an option for me, but with what they'd just said, I really didn't think I could face the rest of my class. They had decided to hate me, and so it was hard not to hate them back.

"A place where pesky little first years wouldn't dare to come on pain of death," Alice replied, breaking through my little haze of anger.

"Is that safe for me, then?"

She spun around grinning at me, "Yeah, you're _not _a first year, you're far too intelligent."

Instead of leading me down the usual corridor with the studios, she lead me right, down a corridor I'd never bothered to go down before. "What's down here?"

"Dorm rooms," she said, pulling me past the doors. Each had a number on them. She tapped one. Number twenty three, "If you ever need your leotard smartening up, I'm in there."

"Right," I said, staring at her slightly disorienting black and white ensemble. We turned a sharp left and went down past even _more _rooms, until we reached a door with a plaque, declaring:

_Senior Common Room_

"You guys have a common room?"

Alice laughed, "Oh yeah, and we don't have to share dorms with nineteen other bitchy girls. Life's good." She pushed open the door.

The room was a wide rectangle, full of comfy-looking sofas and armchairs, a few tables and a couple of desks with computers on them. The walls were adorned with photos of past students, right back to a portrait of the founder, Marcus Vigernon. The fireplace had been boarded up, but in front of it was a large heater. With the rain now slashing at the windows, it looked extremely welcoming.

Alice sighed happily as we went in, shutting the door behind her, "Home sweet home." She skipped over to a mini kitchen in the corner and began filling up the kettle. I settled myself onto the edge of one of the study tables. "So," Alice began conversationally, snapping the lid shut, "What the heck was that all about?"

"God," I muttered, putting my head in my hands, "Why do all my arguments seem to involve public audiences?"

Alice laughed, "I loved the one with Tanya – that was great. Until Edward had to break it up and be all surly. He gave her a massive grilling afterwards, though."

"Was he there today?" I asked, suddenly worried. Today had been the one day I hadn't checked.

"Yup," said Alice. She spun around, two mugs of hot cocoa rocking dangerously in her hands. Seeing my face, she raised an eyebrow, "Fortunately we haven't a clue what you guys were arguing about, only that you were _dangerously _outnumbered."

"Yeah, that's true enough," I said bitterly.

She gave me a sympathetic smile and handed me a mug. We went and sat on the rug in front of the heater. It was odd how casual it was with her. I guessed I just needed to talk to someone my own age, now that Angela – the only mature girl in my class – had left. Alice looked at me expectantly.

I sighed, clasping my cocoa in both hands, and began. I told her everything, right from getting put in first year at seventeen, to Lauren's bitchiness on the first day, to how I'd gotten the solo, to Angela's fall and my concussion, and all that had gone wrong because of it, and how Madame Cox had now scrapped my solo and I wasn't going to be able to perform. The only thing I didn't mention was Edward. Alice was Edward's friend before she was mine. I guessed that it wouldn't be diplomatic to tell her all my frustrations...and my curiosities with him.

We'd been sitting for at least twenty minutes by then, and my cocoa was long since finished. Somehow, the relatively simple events had brought up so much confusion in me that they took much longer to tell her about than I'd thought. Alice had listened like no one had ever really listened to me before. It had been too hard with my mom – maternal instinct and motherly responsibility always got in the way – and, if I was being entirely honest, I hadn't had any other friends to talk to – not ones that I'd really had anything other than math and science in common with. Alice seemed to understand all my confusion, and even if she couldn't give me answers, it was nice to have someone wanting, if only out of curiosity, to listen.

"And now my class has to redo the whole choreography by Sunday," I finished.

"And they're pissed because there's very little time?" predicted Alice.

I nodded, "and according to Violet, all they needed to do before was 'make me look pretty'. That's why things got a little..." I bit my lip, "...loud."

Alice shook her head, "I can understand how redoing the choreography for a whole class dance in four days might be an annoyance, but it seems silly to blame it all on you. You can't exactly help getting a concussion."

"I know, that's what I told them," I shrugged, "I've put up with two-faced bitches before now. I just wish it wasn't my entire _class. _And they all think I'm absolutely crap." I recalled Violet's words this morning; _'even if you did get to rehearse, you weren't exactly very good...' _"Every time I performed in front of them, I screwed up. I kept forgetting steps and after I got the concussion I could hardly do an arabesque...but last night I reworked it and..." I trailed off.

"You reworked it?" Alice repeated.

I nodded solemnly, "I think it was okay – though I'm hardly a judge. No one's going to see it."

"Why did you redo it?"

I looked at Alice. _Because one of your best friends hurt my pride and I wanted to prove I wasn't as bad as he assumed. _"The choreography wasn't working for me. I just..." I looked down, "I just wanted it to be about _me. _To be suited to me."

"You wanted to connect with it," said Alice. "God knows there's nothing wrong with that. You should see Edward. Every five seconds he changes the choreography. Tanya gets so pissed off with it." Alice smirked.

"Do you like Tanya?" I asked her curiously.

"I don't _mind _her," she said, "well, I didn't mind her before she started being such a bitch to you."

"Yeah," I muttered, "she has a little thing against first years."

Alice let out a laugh. I looked at her bemusedly. "I'm sure she has a thing against first years, Bella, but it's totally different with you." She stared at me, like I was missing something incredibly obvious. "_Bella! _You've become Tanya's biggest threat." A vague memory of Eliza saying something like that last week crossed my mind.

"For the American Ballet?" I asked.

Alice nodded, "Yeah. See Edward's both entirely reliable and unreliable at the same time. He's totally reliable with his dancing. If you have Edward Masen as a partner then he will unfailingly make you amazing. He will put every bit of his energy into making you great. But," she said, holding up a manicured finger. "If Edward finds someone else, then you're screwed. And that's where he's totally _un_reliable. Edward stays with a partner as long as she's the best offer. Fortunately for Tanya, she _is _the best. There's no denying that no one at this academy can dance like her, except Edward himself. So she's safe, right?"

I nodded.

"Ah!" Exclaimed Alice excitedly, "And that is where you are wrong! See, when Edward danced with you he broke his own rule. No offence, but you _are _a first year, so it's impossible for you to be as good as Tanya. And yet, Edward still decided to dance with you."

"It was just a demonstration," I pointed out, "Edward said it himself. Tanya has nothing to worry about."

Alice shook her head, grinning widely at me. "I'm sure someone's already told you that Edward doesn't demonstrate. He doesn't dance with anyone other than his partner. I guess he equates it to cheating on them, but I think it's also because he has a thing about technique. It took him ages to get used to Tanya, even though they both have great technique. They had to get used to each other, and, trust me; it is not funny being friends with Edward when he's got a new partner. He got _very _frustrated with Tanya. Now they know each other's movements and quirks perfectly."

"But anyway, it took them ages and Edward pretty much vowed he'd never go through the hell of the first dance unless he was changing partners. _You," _Alice pointed to me, "managed to get him to dance with you without any notice, without any reason, if we're being entirely honest. So Edward broke all his rules in one when he danced with you. And you can imagine how Tanya might've been a little concerned."

"Yeah, but it was just one dance," I said. _'Just one dance' _because I hadn't thought of it at all since then...

"True," said Alice. "But here comes part two!"

I laughed despite myself, "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

She shrugged with a grin, "It's interesting when you're a gossip junky like me. Anyway, see Tanya probably wouldn't have been so worried about one dance. She got pretty pissed off when she found out, but Edward told her it was a demonstration, and of course we heard that he stormed out afterwards, so she thought that was okay. She only confronted you at breakfast because she heard about your dream..." Alice smiled slyly. "Did you really have to tell everyone?"

I blushed, "I didn't exactly have a choice...I kind of shouted his name in my sleep."

She looked at me appraisingly, her eyes narrowed.

"Totally accidental!" She didn't change, "Seriously!"

"Sure..." she said eventually, "Anyway, Tanya wasn't too concerned. It didn't really matter if he'd had a momentary lapse in his 'rules', besides which, she heard that he wasn't teaching your class anymore. So we assumed that it had been a bad experience for him and that he'd probably never do it again. But even though he keeps doing all the stuff he normally does, he's...changed."

"Changed?" I repeated. I was enthralled, excited by that word...no, no that was silly...

"Edward's never been more unfocussed than this past week, Bella. I have no idea what you did, but it must've been pretty spectacular. He keeps zoning out, particularly when he's with Tanya. He still rehearses and all, and he's still absolutely amazing...he's just not..." she looked at me, trying to figure out the word, "I honestly don't know, but he's just not the same, Bella."

The rain splattered against the windows as I thought what she was saying. It was a strange idea to me; that he could have been so affected by that short dance we'd had – I thought I'd been the only one. And what about what he told me yesterday? That he had stormed out because I was so inexperienced...but then why was he being like he was with his friends?

"Anyway," said Alice, finally snapping me out of my thoughts, "what's important right now is that we get our own back at those horrible little brats in your class."

Unwillingly shoving my questions to the side, I smiled at her, "They seem to think that I've already punished them by making them work harder."

"Still," said Alice, turning very authorative, "one must always drill in the message." She glanced at her watch. "Damn, look I have to get to conditioning," she looked me up and down, "you seem to be calmer now, will you be okay?"

I nodded and we both stood and took our mugs to the sink. "Thanks," I said to her, "I think I needed the girl talk."

She grinned at me, "Anytime, Bella. And I'm sorry that you're stuck in that nasty class – by the sounds of things, you're way too good for them."

We went out into the freezing corridor and began walking back to the studios. "Alice," I said as we were about to part ways. "Did Edward ever say anything? About the dance, I mean."

She shook her head, "That's why no one knows what on Earth is going on with him. And why Tanya's being such a bitch." She sighed, "Whatever it is, it's because of that dance last week. You're the only one who knows what's going on, aside from the guy himself."

I frowned, "I think I'm more confused than anyone."

She smiled and just said, "Maybe, but that's only because you know more." She shook her head again quickly and gave me a quick hug. "Look, don't worry about it, Bella. Edward's weirdness isn't your problem. See you later."

I gave her a weak smile, and she went into class.

I ended up in the library once again, sitting at my table and listening to the rain outside. My calculus was in front of me, but this time I couldn't get lost in the numbers. The conversation with Alice was too loud in my head.

Why had Edward changed so much after out dance? Was it possible that Edward having the same thoughts as me? In Pas de Deux with Peter, when I kept comparing, kept thinking how different it would be with him...when I looked at Peter and me in the mirror, I knew we were fine with our technique. But there was never any emotion...never any connection between the two of us. With Edward, there undeniably had been. I couldn't delude myself anymore with thoughts that there hadn't been. And I couldn't deny that I wanted it. I wanted to have that _feeling _of dancing with him again...but that didn't matter; that wasn't the question. The question was whether Edward had felt it. If, somehow, our dance had been different to him...

I ground my teeth together and exchanged my calculus book for my science folder. It was never going to be answered. I could never just walk up to him and ask him if he'd _felt _something when he'd danced with me...I quickly flipped to a page of my chemistry book.

'_The Ideal Gas Law assumes several factors about the molecules of gas. The volume of the molecules is considered –'_

But what if he _did _want emotion? What if that was the reason why he was so unfocussed with Tanya? What if he felt the same when he danced with her as when I danced with Peter?

'_...molecules is considered negligible compared to the volume of the container in which they are held. We also assume that – '_

But that was almost wishful thinking. Wishful and stupid thinking because there was no way that Edward would ever find anything in a first year that he couldn't get with Tanya...

'_We also assume that gas molecules move randomly, and collide in – '_

But what if he had found something? What if I was some sort of exception...

'_...and collide in completely elastic collisions. Attractive and repulsive forces – '_

Oh for God's sake! I slammed the folder shut. I didn't even know what part of chemistry I'd been reading about! It was my logical, academic side that snappily told me to go and answer my question and then maybe I would shut up and get back to serious ballet and serious studying.

I could hardly go and find out if he had felt the connection the same as me...

...but I _could _go and find out if he felt it with anyone else...

I looked at the Giselle clock. Four. I still had an hour and a half before they _might _be there. I stood up and walked around the bookshelves, sometimes taking one off and staring at it briefly, trying to read the words.

Agrippina Vaganova's book _'Fundamentals of the Classical Dance' _stood out, sitting face forward in a place of honour on one of the bookshelves. Vaganova had perfected Russian ballet, and now the largest Russian Ballet School was named the Vaganova Ballet Academy after her. I wondered briefly whether Madame Bansch had come from Vaganova Academy. She seemed strict enough...

I wandered on, round and round the library. Mrs Bell looked at me slightly worriedly from the desk. I must have looked slightly manic. I wanted to find out even just this tiny piece of information about him. What Alice had told me had left me with so much more knowledge, and yet so much more confusion. If I could just see, then maybe something would be cleared up for me...

It was a long, long wait for five thirty. I sat back down after a good half hour of pacing and tried to do some English. Then I tried to study Benesh Dance Notation, but my brain wasn't engaged enough. Eventually I just sat down in one of the armchairs by the fireplace and resigned myself to waiting.

When Giselle's leg finally ticked onto the six, I almost leapt out of my seat. But I had to give them time to get there...

Slowing down, I picked up my books and piled them up in my arms. Then I walked as calmly as I could out of the library with a weak 'thanks' to Mrs Bell. I would take my books back up to my dorm, and then I would go and see.

I dipped into the dorm just for a second, dumping my books on my bed and walking straight back out, but I felt everyone's eyes on me. Not only had I given them more work, but I'd now also had a major argument in the middle of the dining hall. And whilst arguing with Tanya Denali may have been exciting and high-up, insulting half my class wasn't going to get me any brownie points with the rest of my year.

But those thoughts were quickly thrown to the side as I headed back down to the second floor. Would they be there? I tiptoed down the corridor. Underneath my hoodie and track pants, I was still wearing my leo and tights. All the other students were in their dorms now, and most of the studios were dark. But I crept along to the last one, where, if they were her at all, they would be.

Nerves clenched a little in my stomach. I would have big problems if they saw me. As I got closer, I heard the first notes Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_. My heart almost broke in two right then. My dream. My dream from last night, it had come true.

Edward and Tanya stood in the middle of the studio.

Tanya was in front of Edward, her curled around him as he steadied her around the waist. Slowly, she bent back, perfectly controlled, her arm elegantly reaching ahead of her. Edward began to pull her back up. She courued so gracefully up the centre, and then Edward lifted her in an arabesque, and she seemed to fly. But her hand curled around Edward's neck, and she stared into his eyes. Whether it was part of the choreography or not, I wanted to cry. There was nothing in the world to match this sort of beauty.

They held hands, but then stepped away from each other, as if there was something stopping them from being together. But then as the music crescendoed, they defied that force, and Tanya ran and jumped. Edward lifted her high above himself, hugging her thighs to his chest to keep balance as she reached high into the air, despairing as if this contact couldn't be...he lowered her down once again and she broke out into quick pirouettes, even though the music was slow.

Finally, I drew up the courage to look at Edward's face. His eyes watched Tanya as she spun, his hands gentle controlling her balance. But those eyes looked so tired and drawn. Sorrowful. And I knew that he was listening to the music. As it plunged into the deep notes, Edward swallowed, his nostrils flaring. His eyes were no longer focussed on Tanya.

As she finished her pirouettes, his eyes shut slightly, as if trying to get back to her, and then they parted once more, short backward steps making it look as if they were hesitant to leave each other. But though Edward's hand was out stretched, begging her to stay, I knew now that he wasn't really. His eyes looked despairing enough, but they seemed to be more despairing with the music, relating to _it _rather than _her. _

And as the piece finally began to end, he knelt and Tanya stepped up onto his bent knee. They finished with Tanya's leg raised in an arabesque. She was staring dramatically up into the heavens. It was sad that such ardent lovers did not look into each other's eye...that would be what I would have done. Edward was looking past her...at me!

I shot away from the door just as I saw Tanya jump down and Edward quickly stand up. "Bella!"

I sprinted down the corridor, praying Tanya would do something to stop him. Crap crap crap!

As soon as I reached the stairs, I leapt down the right hand corridor, not entirely sure where it lead, but not caring. He wouldn't expect me to be down here. I slipped into one of the alcoves, out of sight. I heard Edward's steps in the studio corridor. What would I say to him if he found me? Oh, hey Edward, just trying to work out whether you're an over-emotional romanticist like I am, don't mind me! Crap!

"Little creep's spying on you again," I heard Tanya's voice. They were getting closer.

I slid down to the floor, praying there wasn't enough light to see me in the alcove.

"You can't let her distract you, Eddie." Adrenaline pumped through me. _Don't find me! Please don't find me!_

"Bella?" A shiver ran up my spine. The way my name sounded in his voice...I quietened my breathing. He was coming closer...

"Eddie, if she's too coward to talk to you then that's her problem."

I heard him sigh. He was in the stairwell, not ten metres from me. "You really don't get it, do you?" He said irritably. "Come on," he said before she could answer, "We need to sort out the middle section."

"Why couldn't we do something more modern for the review?" She grumbled.

I waited until I heard the studio door slam before I hesitantly stood up. That had been close.

Gradually, my muscles relaxed and I thought back. My question had been answered. I ignored the thought that told me I'd just seen what my mind wanted me to see, and instead ran up the stairs to my dorm. There, I ignored the stares and grumbles of my 'friends' and grabbed my iPod and pointe shoes.

Then I went back down to the entrance hall. I had to find Madame Cox.

* * *

Ha, next to Moonlight Sonata on my playlist is dancing in the moonlight, so I'd be writing the slow choreography and then Toploader would come on...

Alright, I daresay I'm not proud of this chapter, but still, yay!

I would love to know what you think!

Please Review!


	14. Chapter 14

Hello!

Woohoo! No writer's block, so here's the update just two days after the last!

Oh yes, about updates: I'm writing as much as I possibly can without dying from lack of sleep, nutrition and movement!

(Though I have gone without all of them at different points for this!)

So, I think the day before yesterday I got an anonymous review asking me about:

**Writer's Block: The Ginga's Guide**

To anyone who writes, it is utter _hell. _So, here are three quick things that worked for me (I'm a Ginga...):

1. Don't back down - a lot of sites say aww, take a break and go bake cookies and leave it for a day.

Doesn't work for me (though everyone's different) - you have to keep going at the chapter, keep sitting down and staring at it, keep _trying._

If I walk away from it, then I'll just stop altogether - which is my BIGGEST fear on Fanfiction...

2. Write up all the things that are stopping you. Everything.

With me, it's usually 'I don't know how to get from A to B'. Also is it that you don't like your dialog? Are your characters not working?

Isolate the problems from the rest of your writing and then..

3. Write up all the things that _are _working in the scene.

Don't be modest, go in and say, 'Good Lord, the characterization of Jimmy the kiwi is excellent!'

Write everything that you _know _is working. Differentiate the good from the bad and you might find you have more material than you thought.

Alright, it is kind of hard to give helpful advice in an Author's Note, so if you are stuck in that horrible little dungeon of despair but you've found these tips helpful, then send me a PM or a review and I will try and help as best as I can. Again, these may only work for me, I have no idea, but I am pretty sure perseverance is key to everyone.

**Thank you, thank you, _thank you_! To everyone who sent me a review!**

Put simply, you inspire me to write.

Thanks!

Okay, I am going to go and...take a break and start writing again...ah, I'm a sad person...

So, please Review!

And **ENJOY!**

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All of Me - Jon Schmidt (Review Piece)

Arabesque - yeah, I use it a lot. _Position in which the dancer has one leg raised behind and arms outstretched. _

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I asked a group of second year girls where Madame Cox's office was. After a few comments about my prolific dining hall arguments, they directed me down a small corridor where most of the teachers had their offices. I went past the doors until I found the one with the plaque:

_Madame Barbara Cox,_

_Senior Ballet Mistress_

_Scholarship Coordinator_

Biting back my excited nerves, I knocked.

"Come in." Came her voice.

I turned the handle and went in. Madame Cox's office was not as nice as Madame Esme's. It was smaller, and windowless. But the walls were painted cream, and framed posters of various ballet productions hung from them, all signed by the casts. There were also photos of Madame Cox with a few other dancers all posing in their costumes. The lady herself sat at her desk, a big pile of papers in front of her. She looked studious with her black rimmed glasses and turtleneck jersey, but I could see the darkening circles under her eyes.

"Miss Swan," She regarded me wearily, "What can I do for you?"

"Ma'am I..." I'd rushed into this a little. My reasons were messy; since Edward _seemed _not to have any connection with Tanya, he _might _have felt a connection with me. _If _Edward had felt something, then perhaps all I needed to do was show him that I still had that emotion he wanted...and then maybe, just maybe... there were too many 'ifs' and 'buts' to allow myself to think further. Realising I'd zoned out, I quickly came back to Madame Cox, "I have something to show you."

She raised her eyebrow, her fingers still intertwined in front of her. "And what would that be?" She asked.

I refrained from biting my lip and brought out my pointe shoes from behind my back, "I kind of have to show you in one of the studios."

She pursed her lips, looking distastefully at the shoes. "Don't you have a concussion and an order not to dance? Or have I changed my entire choreography on a lie?"

"Ma'am, the symptoms of my concussion have all gone," I told her earnestly, "I can dance."

She didn't look convinced, but said, "And what is it you want to show me?"

"I changed the dance," I said quietly. Judging by what she'd just said about changing the choreography, I doubted she'd give me a chance.

"By which you mean?"

I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like I was coming in here to confess a crime, "I changed my solo dance last night."

"And yet you injured yourself the day before, during Miss Weber's accident?"

"I thought maybe Doctor Hill would forget to tell the teachers."

She smiled a little at that, "My dear, Doctor Hill wouldn't let you off for an injury even if it were a broken nail."

"Exactly!" I cried out frustratedly, then snapped my mouth shut. Teacher, right. "I mean...ma'am Doctor Hill is keeping me off much longer than necessary – it's ridiculous, and I – I really want this solo."

"The number of students I've lost because of him..." Madame Cox sighed and stood up. "Lead on, Miss Swan." She said tiredly.

I nervously walked up to the second floor with her. Students were already coming down the stairs for dinner. Some of them gave me stares, remembering my little display at lunch. "What the hell is the bitch doing?" I heard Lauren Mallory's voice. She was descending the stairs with Jessica, Violet and Eliza. _'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' _They all looked at my leotard and dance bag with contempt.

"Miss Mallory, you will report to my office tomorrow morning," Madame Cox said sharply, loud enough for the whole parade of people to hear. Lauren's face turned pale. "This school is no place for your foul language."

"Yes Ma'am," Lauren said quietly, swallowing. I tried to keep a smile off my face.

When we reached the same studio as I'd used last time, I had to glance at Edward's studio. Was he still in there? I hoped not; he couldn't see me, not yet. We went in, switched the bright strip lights on and I quickly hooked up my iPod. Then I sat down and tied up my pointe shoes, feeling rushed because Madame Cox was standing at the door. At least she wasn't tapping her foot...I did a few quick stretches – I did _not _need another injury. It felt strange performing in front of just one person, but I _had _to do this! I stood up, a bolt of nerves shooting up my body. I looked to Madame Cox. She gave a curt smile, telling me I could begin.

I pressed play and then stepped back and rose onto pointe, lifting my leg up behind me. The music began. I felt the stirring in my belly as the familiar notes reached out for me and pulled me into a world that we had defined together.

As the notes went down, so did I, reaching forwards and raising my leg so that it made a straight line. I could still do it! I tried not to look for a reaction from Madame Cox as I rose back up and instead step turned downstage, and then spun in a slow pirouette.

I stepped my foot back, feeling as though I'd only just discovered I could do it...and I stepped forward, as if a whole world – the world of ballet – was blossoming before me. I would join that world, I knew, and I curtsied, marking my entrance. And then the fast notes came, and the entrance was almost over. More notes joined the first until everything came together...and then all tentativeness left me, and I flew.

I remembered the whole dance easily – the music told me what I needed to do. Madame Cox became less of an individual and more of an anonymous observer as I leapt and spun. I was showing whoever was watching what I could do.

And as the final chorus lead me on once more, I delved into the music and brought it out with me, in the way that only dance can, and truly showed it to the world. I finished in arabesque. But once the last note had been played, I was cut loose, and Madame Cox's presence was _certainly _there. I lowered my leg and turned to face her. My breathing was heavier than usual, and sweat beaded on my back.

Madame Cox was looking at me with her chin raised high, making her even taller than usual. I couldn't glean anything off her expression. She was simply studying me.

I felt the need to say something and break the horrible silence that she didn't seem to notice, "It – " my breathing was _very _heavy. "It's not exactly polished..."

She nodded her head down slowly, then took a step towards me, looking me up and down, "Why did you dance like that?" She asked me. Her voice was the same blank calm as usual.

I frowned. I could hardly tell her it had something to do with Edward Masen...wait, that wasn't what she's asked... "I don't know," I said, "...I was thinking about why I started ballet. It was just...the music tied in to describe it..."

She nodded, "Yes, you had that air of innocence about you."

I stood there awkwardly. What was she saying? Were my moves too basic?

"I assume you would like me to put your choreography back into the piece?"

"Well I...yes, Ma'am."

Her eyes seemed to get sharper every second, "And I assume you would like to be the one to dance it."

What? Suddenly, my protectiveness kicked in. No one else could dance this! The steps...they were all linked to _me..._even though I didn't have the best technique...it was like giving away your favourite childhood toy. Yes, someone might actually _use _it or play with it better, but it's still _your _toy! What about all the memories? What about the connections my dance had to _me?_

Madame Cox was watching me closely. I'm sure my badly concealed disappointment answered her question. She sighed and took off her glasses, "When can you dance again?" She asked.

"Saturday, Ma'am."

"You are one hundred percent healthy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, a little hope coming up inside.

"And if your symptoms were to return you will be responsible enough to stop?"

I hadn't been before, but I didn't think I ought to tell her that. They wouldn't come back, "Yes Ma'am."

"There is a lot of work to be done on it," she said abruptly. "Your extensions ought to be better. An allegro is no reason to be sloppy, and if your penche needs to face sideways to the audience, or no one will see the lines." She put her hands behind her back, and looked at me with those powerful black eyes. "This is a big risk you ask me and your class to take. If I change the choreography again then we lose another day of rehearsal. We have two rehearsals to go, Miss Swan, one of which you can't even attend."

I held my breath. Oh God no...It was more than just Edward Masen – the reason why I wanted to dance this solo...it was because I really _did _love dance, and the elation of dancing this particular piece...my heart was breaking again.

"However," Madame Cox continued, "I don't believe either of the routines we have been rehearsing, nor the rest of your classmates can quite grasp the same...understanding you have just displayed." I could hardly stop from smiling. She liked it! Did that mean I could perform?

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said, trying not to sound as overjoyed as I was.

She pursed her lips, "You have a long way to go before performance standard, Miss Swan. I would not tend to presume until you are standing behind that curtain with my absolute approval."

I nodded quickly, feeling like a small, overexcited child who needed calming down. She was letting me do it! I could do it...but I realised she was right. There was still time for her to say no. Now I had to focus.

"Go over the first section," ordered Madame Cox, "I'd like to see that penche again. No music."

I performed the introduction. The emotion was lost without the music, but I knew that I couldn't let myself get surrounded by the music until my technique was so habitual that I could trust myself to perform with quality. Then I would throw myself fully into the music. Apparently my penche was acceptable, considering my lack of experience, but it was badly postured. Madame Cox pressed down my back to it arched and pushed my leg even higher, saying it wasn't quite one-eighty yet.

We went through the whole routine in painstaking detail. Without the support of the music, I sometimes forgot moves, but Madame Cox had the endless patience that all dancers need to develop – three hours of plies and failed pirouettes weren't meant to be exciting, and yet that's what an awful lot of learning ballet is.

"I want you take your movements and make them larger," she said as we rehearsed the middle chorus. "The introduction needs more as well. It all must be bigger on stage, Miss Swan, or this story you have managed to create will be nonexistent for the audience. You do very nice subtle things – when you open your hand during the first bar after the gentlemen's piece it is very, it ought to be a full opening of your entire arm. Subtly doesn't work."

I tried opening out, unbending my arm as my fingers spread. "Yes, better, and as you watch your arm or hand, particularly in the introduction, you want to make them head movements rather than just eyes, understand?"

The rain continued to beat against the windows as the sky slowly darkened. It was warm in the studio, though, and I hardly noticed as the minutes and hours passed, and the shrouded sun went down behind the hills. Having never properly watched myself dance the piece in the mirrors, there was a lot to fix – and Madame Cox _was _a technique teacher, after all.

"I worked it out so that it wouldn't affect the original choreography," I told her at one point.

She shook her head, surveying the empty studio, "No, the class choreography will be changed. They will fit exactly to your solo. Go stage right at the end of that bar...you will lead them into a spiral shape for the climax, and then they'll circle you. Break out for the final chorus. They will be in the background. Go to the front of the stage."

I did so. If there was one thing I could let myself predict about the coming days, it was that my class was not going to be happy, particularly about being in the background at the end. If they wanted the credit just for 'making me look pretty' then it was at the end – one of the most memorable parts of a performance. I couldn't be bothered feeling any sympathy, but it _was _a class dance. Was it right to take both the beginning and the end?

"What were you originally finishing in?" Madame Cox was asking me.

"An arabesque," I told her.

She nodded, "Let me see your opening arabesque."

I turned to the side and lifted my leg, my arms reaching out in front.

"And the one at the end?"

"It's the same," I said.

"It shouldn't be," she said. "One would hope that you have changed from your childlike state at the beginning of the piece. You have now experienced dance, but _something _must be different." She regarded my position. "Lift your leg above the ninety, arch your back up. Look proud, knowledgeable...yes, that's it."

I didn't feel proud _or _knowledgeable, but I knew what she was getting at. I had to change from my discovery to my joy at becoming a dancer. That was it.

"Eight forty-eight," murmured Madame Cox, looking at her watch. "Once more through, Miss Swan. And you will rehearse here tomorrow?"

"Yes Ma'am," I said.

She sighed, "I don't particularly like encouraging rule breaking...but Martin Hill..." she trailed off, pursing her lips distastefully at the floor. Eventually she snapped out of it and looked at me, "Just try not to...bring attention to your rule breaking."

I nodded, feeling kind of like we were co-conspirators...except she was my teacher.

"Alright, from the beginning, if you please."

I flicked my iPod back to the start and began my dance again. It was difficult remembering both the changes to the choreography and my general technique. Madame Cox, however, had managed to memorize my entire choreography, as well as the class's in just two hours, and she called out when I got lost. With my concentration on technique and timing, there was little of the connection I'd felt when I'd first performed it tonight, but I didn't mind. I didn't want to overuse it, anyway.

There were only a few bars left, and I sautéed, jumping high, feeling the satisfying spring in my legs. I spun in my last pirouette, turning away from the windows.

Tanya Denali was looking through the door window.

Shit! I stumbled on my landing.

"Control!" Madame Cox demanded. I frustratedly lifted my leg up in the final arabesque. Tanya was staring at my position contemptuously, her nostrils flared. The final note played, and I hurriedly went down. What the hell was she doing here? What if she told Edward? "That was good," Madame Cox was saying. "Aside from the ending. Make sure you're spotting."

"Yes Ma'am," I murmured. Tanya finally made eye contact with me and smirked. Then she pushed the door open and walked in.

"Hey Ma'am!" She said, putting on a Barbie-fake smile.

Madame Cox's usually scowling face brightened considerably. "Tanya! How are your classes going?" She asked, walking over to her.

"Good, thanks ma'am. I just saw you in here and thought I'd say hi."

"Ah, yes, we were just rehearsing Miss Swan's solo for the review." She gestured to me. "Have you met?"

Tanya gave me a horribly sweet smile, "Yeah, we've met. Hey, I thought you were sick or something?"

Yeah, coming to think of it, I did feel like vomiting. _She_ was sickening.

Madame Cox leaned in conspiratorially, "Well, Doctor Hill's given her one of those silly rest periods like he used to give Edward. But Miss Swan really does have something to show everyone. You'll be watching?" She inquired.

"Oh yes," said Tanya. "Edward and I are up against Master Carlisle and Mistress Esme."

Madame Cox laughed, "Evenly matched, I think. What are you dancing to?"

"Moonlight Sonata," said Tanya.

She nodded, "A good choice."

"Yeah, we were going to go with Clair de Lune, but Edward and I decided we'd have more chances to show our skill with Beethoven." Thank _God _they weren't doing Clair de Lune...any remaining connection I had with that piece would have been crushed if I'd watch Edward and Tanya dancing to it – no doubt, beautifully.

I knelt down and untied my pointe shoes. Madame Cox went on, "And how are your sisters? I heard Irina's got the solo for the Chinese Variation for the Nutcracker."

"Yeah," said Tanya flatly. "It's not very big, though. My Mom thought she could've aimed for better."

"Ah, not everyone can be the Sugar Plum Fairy, though. I believe she her technique's perfect for the choreography."

I quickly unplugged my iPod from the stereo. "Ma'am," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder, "I better go before its lights out."

She turned round and gave me a pleasant smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. You might care to take some time to write down the notes I gave you."

"I will, Ma'am," I quickly curtsied a thank you and left, brushing past Tanya, who gave me a quick sneer before turning back to sickly sweet student.

I huffed as the door shut behind me. I liked Madame Cox – she was a great teacher – and I childishly thought that Tanya had brainwashed her.

Before I got to my dorm, I stopped in one of the alcoves and slipped my hoodie and trackpants back on, praying Madame Bansch wouldn't be there anyway.

Unlike last night, I wasn't too late – the others were still lounging around in their PJs, chatting and reading magazines on the couches. I tried to be inconspicuous as I put my pointe shoes away and got out of my leotard and tights. Lauren, who hadn't noticed me yet, was sitting with Jessica, Megan, Violet and a few other girls from my class, complaining loudly. "Seriously, she was only like, a Coryphée, and yet she walks around like she's the best teacher in the school."

"Madame Cox is better than Madame Wright, Lauren," said Eliza, who'd been lying on another couch reading _Dance Magazine. _I thought back to lunchtime. Eliza had been there, but at least she'd said things a little more graciously than the others...

"Whatever," snorted Lauren, not bothering to look at Eliza. "At least Wright let me fool around with Tyler between combinations." _Yeah, _I thought to myself, _thank _God _for that. _"Besides, it's not like she wasn't royally pissed off with little drama queen as well."

"She was so stuck-up on the stairs," said Violet. "What a teacher's pet." I remembered how Lauren had insulted me the other day, and how Violet had snapped at her to shut up. It was ridiculous the way she and some of the others had changed sides so quickly. Maybe I would have been one of them when I was fifteen...but even then, I'd been smart enough not to be on anyone's side other than my own.

Megan leaned in excitedly, "I know, right? When I offered to help her with her solo, she went all snobby and told me to piss off. I mean, I was just offering to _help _her."

"I guess it goes against her code of conduct to actually accept help from a _first year," _said Lauren. "That's why she thinks she's so great – getting in with Edward Masen and Tanya Denali and that Alice girl."

"They didn't even want to _talk _to her," said Jessica with a giggle, "I mean, did you see the way Edward walked out? Even people her own _age _can't stand her massive ego."

"Bighead Bella," said Lauren with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes, deciding I'd really rather not remain inconspicuous. "Wow Lauren," I said, walking down the aisle of beds to them, "You learnt how to alliterate. Well done!"

She looked at me and stood up, undeterred. "I don't think we invited you into this conversation, _Bella." _She said my name tauntingly.

"Why not?" I said, smiling, "It's not like I don't already know what you think of me." I sat down on the edge of one of the couches. "Go, talk," I looked at the other girls, who sat looking down uncomfortably, "Or is it not so much fun insulting someone when you're scared they'll hear you?"

"We're just saying it like it is, Bella," said Violet.

I laughed. "Violet, you really know nothing about me. And until you do, please stop basing me on ridiculous clichés you got off the Disney Channel. You have no evidence." I knew I was only making things worse for myself, but I really couldn't be bothered.

Violet leapt up from the floor. "You are such a _bitch!" _

"I think we've already established that," I said drawlingly.

"Real funny, Bella," said Lauren, folding her arms.

I raised my eyebrows, "How so?"

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic."

"And you've just run out of come-backs."

Lauren looked me up and down then took a step towards me, "You really think you're something, don't you?"

"Well you're sure making a big deal out of me, Lauren," I told her, standing up from the edge of the sofa. We were the same height. She glared at me, narrowing her mascara-laden eyes.

"You're gonna pay for being such a bitch," she said quietly.

I rolled my eyes, "Where's that from? James Bond?"

"God you're a bitch!" She took another step towards me. I suddenly felt a sharp pain across my cheek.

"What the hell?" She'd slapped me!

"You deserve it!" She yelled.

"_Why!" _I demanded, some of my control going with the pain in my cheek.

"Because you're so stuck-up!"

"Why? Because I work hard and get results?"

"You don't _work _hard! You don't even have any experience! You're too old!"

"What the heck is – "

"EXCUSEZ-MOI!" Every head went to the doorway.

Madame Esme stood there, wearing a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. She looked frighteningly tall, and she began walking right towards me and Lauren. We'd both unconsciously stepped away from each other. "What on Earth is going on?" She demanded, her accent thick.

"We – " "I – " Lauren and I began at the same time.

Madame Esme looked between the two of us, her hands on her hips. "How dare you both make such a racket! I have half a mind to send you to Master Carlisle right now! What happened?"

No one said anything.

Madame Esme looked at me and Lauren, studying us closely. She looked carefully at my face. "She slapped you?"

I nodded tentatively. I hadn't wanted to tell her. I didn't _need _teachers to know about it – it was my fight.

"She led me on, Ma'am," Lauren said hastily.

Madame Esme shook her head in disgust, her eyes on Lauren, "You know – I don't care what you were arguing about! That behaviour is absolutely disgraceful!" She snapped back to me. "And for you to react by yelling! You could have walked away! This is absolutely appalling! Ballet Dancers pride themselves on having grace and manners no matter what the situation! By being at this school you adhere to those rules at all times! _Mon dieu!"_ She exclaimed, her hand flying up in the air. "I will think of a suitable punishment and you will both come to my office after classes tomorrow. Understand?"

We both nodded.

Madame Esme surveyed the rest of my dorm, "Everyone get in to bed. And if anyone says a single word they will regret it. And Miss Swan, I would like to talk to you outside for a moment." She spun on her heel and walked back out.

I followed her nervously.

Out in the cool corridor, Madame Esme sighed wearily. For the first time, I noticed the bags under her eyes.

"Miss Swan I understand how it must be hard for you to deal with little girls who are two years younger than you, however, you _must _have patience with them. God knows I do not need this after the past couple of days," she said, putting two manicured fingers to her forehead.

I suddenly felt guilty, remembering where she must have been. "Ma'am...how is Angela?" I asked.

She gave me a tired smile, "Miss Weber is recovering well. They expect only three days more in the hospital at most."

"Will she be coming back?" I already knew the answer, but I had to get the grisly confirmation.

Madame Esme was already shaking her head, "We don't quite know how she well she will heal in the long-term, but certainly not this term."

I nodded slowly. My poor friend. I had been so consumed in my own drama for the past two days that I hadn't inquired about her.

"She is allowed to have visitors on Saturday. She's asked for you, would you like to go?"

"Of course," I said at once.

"Good...oh, and one last thing – Doctor Hill informed me of your concussion."

I nodded, swallowing. I didn't want to have to lie...

"I understand why you did not tell anyone sooner – Miss Weber's injury was more severe, but I must stress the importance of reporting injuries. I certainly don't want to have another student in hospital because she went to sleep and could not wake up again. Have you been taking your pills?"

"Yes Ma'am." Well, I would take them in a minute...

"Bonne fille, now go and get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Ma'am," I curtsied – it looked a little weird in blue and white polka dot PJ pants – and went back inside. Everyone else was obediently 'asleep', and I got into bed quietly.

Madame Esme was right – I did have to have patience with my classmates. But that didn't mean I couldn't prove my worth on Sunday. To my class, to Tanya...but to Edward?

Now I understood – it wasn't to prove him wrong about me. If what I guessed from my talk with Alice was correct, then I would not be proving anything to him. I would just be reminding him. I fell asleep to the memory of strong hands on my waist, a warm, tall body close to mine...and green eyes...staring into mine as I stared into them with no pretence, no nervousness...just discovery.

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Alright, for those of you who are managing to escape on holiday for Christmas, I wish you the best for it and for New Years!

I will, of course, keep updating, so if you're stuck in your house like me then worry not!

**Please Review and Happy Christmas!**


	15. Chapter 15

Hello!

I am really tired...

Anyway, I'm terribly sorry for the late update, but between Christmas and writer's block (again) and earthquakes (NEW ZEALAND IS SHAKING!) and such, it was pretty much impossible.

**Thank you for the reviews! **

**I take each and every review to heart, and I just love hearing what you think, so cheers!**

Alright, here it is, Chapter Fifteen!

Please review and ENJOY!

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32 Fouettes - thirty two fouettes (similar to pirouettes) are performed in Swan Lake. Thirty two spins non stop is rather tricky!

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Friday passed quickly. My dorm mates were excruciatingly quiet in the morning. They whispered amongst each other, looking from me to Lauren. Lauren, making her bed at the other end of the room, kept shooting me death glares. Last night had ended so abruptly, with Madame Esme walking in like that, Lauren's comment about my age and experience had been left hanging, and I'd never gotten anything back at her since she'd slapped me. She didn't have the upper hand. But, then neither did I.

The argument – though I did wonder if it really _was _the argument – was that I had screwed up the class routine, and so insulting me to the moon and back was totally okay. But then my argument back was that I'd gotten a concussion – there was no way of avoiding that.

I knew that my logic was right, but everyone seemed to still be unhappy about having to work a little harder, and so teaming up with Lauren was the easiest thing to do. It didn't matter if she was right or wrong. It was all in the numbers.

I'd been an outsider from the start; my age, dancing with Jessica's crush, dancing with _Edward, _arguing with Tanya Denali...it was easier to go with Lauren. Patience, patience was what Madame Esme had told me to have...

I tugged a pair of jeans and a sweater out of my trunk. Patience was a little difficult to have when the entire dorm was wondering if we were about to burst and start arguing again. It didn't help that I'd landed her with a punishment, either. Still, if she hadn't left a great red mark on my face then Madame Esme wouldn't have been so harsh.

Madame Esme did the usual dorm inspection, walking up and down ensuring everyone was tidy. When she was finished, she said, "Miss Swan and Miss Mallory, I have decided you will both be joining my conditioning class every morning for all of next week. You will also report to the kitchen staff after class on Monday. The rest of you, have a good day."

Lauren looked at me sneeringly, and then strutted down the dorm room, flanked by Violet and Jessica.

I rolled my eyes as she shoved past me. Conditioning and washing up; they weren't _too _bad.

The other girls left silently, though as soon as they got out the door they began whispering excitedly again.

When I reached the dining hall, another dilemma hit me. There was no way I could sit with anyone from my class. They were already sitting round the usual table. Jessica was excitedly telling everyone what had happened last night, no doubt accentuating Lauren's slap. Only Eliza and Ben didn't look amused. I _certainly _couldn't sit there. I swallowed and went into the food line. What was I going to do? It was probably too obvious if I walked out to the toilets with a bowl of muesli and a glass of orange juice...

"Bella! Morning!" I turned around to face a grinning Alice.

"Morning," I looked at the bouncing pixie in front of me. My mind suddenly taken from depression, I said. "Nice leo." It was black and bright pink lycra with a matching skirt and fingerless gloves. She finished the ensemble off with black tights, and a pair of bright pink pointe shoes hung from her hands.

She grinned, and turned round to Jasper, who stood behind her in the uniform black and white. "See, _Bella _likes it!"

He sighed affectionately down at her, "Don't blame me if I drop you with that damned slippery lycra."

"Aww, you wouldn't," she curled her arms around his waist.

He gave her a peck on the lips, "Never, my little fairy."

I blushed as they shared what was really quite an intimate moment. I wished I could have what Alice and Jasper had. She seemed to me like the happiest girl in the world as she stared up into his eyes.

"So, Bella," Alice said eventually, as I was serving myself some fruit salad, "How are things?"

My entire class against me, punishment from Madame Esme this afternoon, not being allowed to _dance... _"Bearable."

She raised a dissatisfied eyebrow at me, "What's wrong?"

I sighed, "Lauren Mallory and I had a bit of an argument last night."

"That would explain why all your little friends are giggling right now," she glared over at them, "Seriously, has that Newton guy's voice even broken yet? He looks like, five."

"What happened?" Asked Jasper, curious.

"Bella's managed to piss off the bitch-establishment of the first years."

He grinned at me, "Good job. Alice took at least three weeks to really stir them up."

"Hey!" She exclaimed, "It so didn't take that long! Remember the scrunchie war on the first week?"

He laughed, "True, but that wasn't single-handed."

She made a face, then grabbed my wrist, "Come on, let's go eat!"

I looked towards the table she was heading for. Emmett and Rosalie sat there, talking to...crap. No.

"I'll see you later," I said, trying to detach myself from her hand.

"Nu-uh, you are so not becoming a social hermit!" She kept pulling me along.

"Alice..." she stopped as my voice became desperate and turned to face me. "What about Tanya? And..."

"Edward?" She predicted. "Bella, I promise I won't let Tanya scratch you and I will ensure that Edward's not _too _grumpy. 'Kay?"

I grudgingly let her tug me along the rest of the way.

When we reached the table, I kept my eyes down, but I couldn't help but see Edward tense up, looking darkly at Alice.

I nervously sat down. Emmet was on my left, Alice on my right.

"Well if it isn't Bella Swan!" Exclaimed Emmett. "Long time no see!"

I had to smile at him. "Hey."

"Why is she here?" Said Rosalie, looking me up and down distastefully with her long lashed eyes.

"Rose," muttered Jasper.

"She's our new addition," Alice said happily.

"She's a first year."

I felt like sinking into a hole. Rosalie's scrutiny was frightening.

"But she's the same age as us, so there," Alice folded her arms. Across the table, Edward didn't look surprised – he had the same irritated expression on his face. I guessed Madame Esme had already told him. I wondered what he thought of it. Maybe that I was even worse because I couldn't dance at my own age level...I could hardly get angry about that – not when I thought it myself.

"Wait, you're seventeen?" Asked Emmett.

I nodded hesitantly.

Emmett broke into a grin, "Good! I did wonder how a first year could be all wise looking like you. How'd you end up down in the duckling class?"

"I started late," I told him. "Thirteen."

"You must be pretty damn good to get into _Force," _he said. "Most of these guys have had to work since they were tiny just to get to this level. Four years though?" He looked extremely happy, "You must be a natural. I mean, Tanya, didn't you start when you were three to get in here?"

"And with those private classes from Andre Blanc," Alice added.

Tanya's nostrils flared as she glared at them. Then she turned her face to me, a malicious smile suddenly spreading across her face, "So Bella, did you enjoy spying on me and Eddie yesterday?"

Oh God. My gaze slipped to Edward. Our eyes locked. Something channelled through my body. He was asking the same thing. Why _had _I been watching him? Why had I run away from him? Not talked to him? But there was something more in his eyes than just questions of privacy...there was curiosity. Like he wanted to know what I'd thought...like he already knew why I'd been looking. Building my confidence, I raised my eyebrows and tore away from his gaze, looking back to Tanya. The surges of adrenalin still powered through my chest, making it hard to think reasonably.

"I could say the same for you," I knew I was entering dangerous territory, but I kept going, looking nonchalantly at my bowl, "I'm surprised; I thought you were too cool to watch a mere first year. May I ask why?"

She glared at me. _Very _dangerous territory... "Your arabesque sucked," she snapped. "And your pirouette was totally off."

"Tanya..." Warned Alice, but I just smiled at her.

"And thirty-two fouettes really don't fit in Moonlight Sonata," I said back as politely as possible.

She raised her eyebrows, tightening her lips, "You're just jealous because you wouldn't have a hope in hell of dancing like I can."

I shrugged, "Perhaps not, but I still think Moonlight Sonata has its own rules for choreography. Beethoven didn't write it just so people could show off."

Emmett let out a roar of laughter. "You are a _lioness, _Bella Swan!"

I glanced at Edward. He was looking down at his plate, trying to hide a grin. I didn't particularly like getting a laugh at someone else's expense, but...well, Edward looked even more hansom when he smiled.

Tanya looked away irritably.

Alice wisely decided to change the subject, "So I've heard about the guest list for the review."

Rosalie shot forward to look at her, "Who?" She demanded.

Alice grinned, "So far I think it's the US Ballet Academy and those cute little ones from the Ballet Club in Wrystone."

"Wait," I said, "the US _Ballet Academy's _coming?"

She nodded, "Of course."

"The reviews not just between classes, you know," said Emmett, leaning back in his chair, "We invite them to show them how damn good we are."

"Intimidation," said Rosalie, smirking. "We ensure that they realize their silly little Balanchine Method is no match for Marcus Vigernon."

"Will anyone from the US company be coming?" Inquired Tanya, distracted.

"The director of the Academy's coming," said Alice, "He has _serious _connections."

"Which is why we're all blacklisted to get into the US company," muttered Jasper. "They detest us."

Tanya snorted at him, "I'm not, and neither is Eddie." She turned to him. "This is so perfect – they won't even need to bother with an audition after they see us on Sunday."

Edward didn't seem remotely excited. He just nodded, absentmindedly tracing the rim of his orange juice glass with his finger.

"Who else?" Asked Rosalie.

Alice thought for a second, "I think a few classes from Aro Colaianni are coming."

"Bastards," muttered Emmett. For my benefit, he said, "Even worse than the damn US Academy is Colaianni. They're always going on about how their contemporary is so much better than ours."

I frowned, "So what? I didn't think _Force _even cared about modern."

"We don't," said Emmett, "But they still think it makes them better than us."

"We _should _care," said Tanya, "The US Ballet's repertoire is half contemporary."

"That doesn't mean it's _good." _Said Rosalie. "Some of their moves are just grotesque."

"Anyway, Colaianni is pretty much our devout enemy," said Alice. "Even though some of the guys are _dreamy _hot."

"Aw, thanks," scoffed Jasper, but he was grinning.

She fluttered her eyelashes, "Mm, you know you're better..."

"Guys," chastised Rosalie, "Not at the table."

Alice sniggered, still wrapped up in Jasper's arms. "As opposed to doing it during warm ups?"

Jasper looked at Emmett, "Or duringthe dress rehearsal for the Snowflake scene last year?"

Emmet folded his muscular arms, "Well I had no idea the Mouse King and the Angel made out at the end of the first act."

I almost choked on my juice. "On stage?"

"Oh yes," said Emmett. "Right as the curtain went down, there they were, bang centre stage kissing like – " Alice reached round me to thwack him on the head.

"Shut it, hulk, we don't want Bella getting the wrong idea."

Emmett laughed and turned to me, "Ah, who's to say that Bella doesn't have secrets of her own. Who's your partner at the moment?"

"Peter Davidson," I told him, biting my lip. "I _don't _think so, though."

"That second year?" Said Rosalie, "I don't know...he's kind of yummy, in a cold sort of way..."

"You might as well have some fun – Pas de Deux's all about the closeness, you know," Emmett wound his arm around Rosalie's waist.

Through the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Edward's finger halt on the rim of his glass. His hand was rigid...but then maybe I just...wanted to see that...

I turned back to Emmett, "I don't think it's possible with Peter...he's a little...well, he has amazing technique..."

The finger relaxed, continuing on its course around the glass.

Emmet guffawed, "Yeah, you seriously need a new partner...now, who's available..."

Tanya abruptly stood up. "We should get to class."

Alice glanced at her phone clock, "Oh crap, yeah we should."

I looked around. Most of the dining hall had emptied. My normal table was cleared.

I said goodbye to my new found friends and headed for the library. Despite the tension with Edward and Tanya, I felt warmth blossoming through me. I liked Alice and Emmett. And Jasper seemed nice. Rosalie...she was...intense, but not as bad as she'd seemed the other day.

I spent the rest of the day in the library. I sat at my usual table, writing out the choreography notes as Madame Cox instructed. I glanced at Giselle. Nine-Twenty. My class would have found out by now about my new solo. I got a vicious attack of nerves. I doubted they would be happy with yet _another _change in the choreography. My logical defence about my concussion was only valid because I _hadn't _purposefully changed anything. Now they would know that I had deliberately gone to Madame Cox and asked her to use my new solo. Maybe it hadn't been the best for the class...well, it certainly hadn't been the best for the class. But if Madame Cox thought it was possible, then surely there was some hope in it?

Walking into the dining hall took a lot of mental effort. I knew Madame Esme would be on my tail if I missed another meal – I'd missed dinner to go and see Madame Cox – but I didn't want to know my class's reaction.

Lauren and her friends sat around the usual table, leaning in and talking. When they saw me, though, they went quiet, staring at me with deadly glares. The confident part of me almost felt like laughing – they looked like sheep, all doing exactly the same thing in an attempt to seem oppressive. But the much larger, freaked out part of me shuddered. Things didn't look good.

I went and sat with Alice again. Edward and Tanya weren't there, but Emmett managed to take my mind off the stares burning into my back with a series of ridiculous jokes and stories.

But lunch passed too quickly, and soon I was at the door to Ballet History. I couldn't ditch again – I still wasn't a rebel, despite building a new reputation for bitch fights. I pushed open the door. Master Butler wasn't here yet, and everyone was sitting on their desks, chattering and stretching – for a ballet dancer must always be stretching.

As soon as I walked in, though, everyone went quiet. They just stared at me.

So that was their game.

I pushed my hair over one shoulder and dumped my books on a desk at the back. Ben was sitting at the desk next to me. He didn't stare like everyone else – he just looked down at his books miserably. I swallowed. To have so many eyes on me, all threatening, angry, despising...it crushed into me, too heavy to bear. I let my hair be a curtain, trying to block out their penetrating gazes. It was horrible. Why couldn't I stare back? Why couldn't I be confident? I had been confident last night, against Lauren, and even an hour ago, in the dining hall...but this was my whole class. People who I'd never talked to. People who hardly _knew _me...and yet they hated me...Tears prickled at the back of my eyes.

Strength...I had to have strength...I was going to be okay. They couldn't hurt me like this. They couldn't be upset before they really judged how good or bad my dance was. I knew they were angry. The thought that Lauren had planted in their heads had been confirmed – I had ruined the review. On purpose, no doubt. Yes, yes this was bad...but I was going to be okay...I just had to breathe. Breathe and be patient. Wait until we put the whole dance together. Then let them judge. Then and only then...

But the silence was deafening. The thoughts directed at me...loud and obnoxious.

The door swung open. "Afternoon class," Came Master Butler's monotonous voice.

The stares were over. They all slid off their desks and on to chairs. I knew that not all of them had been staring – Eliza had been politely looking out the window – but a lot of them had been. Time passed very slowly, but at least none of them had a chance to look at me. Master Butler began on his lecture about the history of Pointe Shoes.

Perhaps it would have been interesting if he'd been more interested himself. Ballerinas had originally danced in high heels, as was the French fashion. The promiscuous Marie Taglioni – promiscuous because she came on stage in a calf length, sleeveless dress – had heavily darned her ballet slippers and performed an entire ballet on the tips of her toes. The Italians created more supporting shoes in secret, leaving the Russian dancers far behind...

...but then Master Butler started going into the finer details of pointe shoe evolution, and it was impossible to make that interesting. The transition from newspaper to leather toe boxes couldn't take my attention away from my class.

In front of me, Lauren and Jessica sat passing notes. Jessica burst into a bout of laughter, her eyes flicking back to me just for a second.

I had to breathe...I just had to breathe...

The rain was heavier than ever as I made my way down the silent corridors to the studio. I'd skipped out on dinner. I knew it would draw unnecessary attention to me. I knew that Alice would wonder where I was. I knew my class would notice and would think that they'd gotten to me. They hadn't...at least, I would tell myself they hadn't.

I'd stayed sitting numbly in the library until it was time to get to my rehearsal. I had felt so out of myself. As if their stares had taken away the assurance I'd had with myself, and now I thought of that confident Bella as a different person... I plugged in my iPod. I scrolled up and down my playlist..._Clair de Lune..._my chest ached for it. The sweet notes began playing in my mind...calm, familiar...I shut my eyes and pressed play.

I had to hear it. Just once.

I sat down on the floor, reaching forward to hold my feet. I breathed in and out slowly, letting the strain and the worries drain away from me. Only a few of the lights were on, creating the dim, dreamy world of dusk. As I leant into the stretch, my gaze looked into the darkness. The memory of the notes wove into a glorious picture.

There he stood, his hands cupped, his chest rising and falling. Edward...he stood there, as if he were my guardian angel. And as the music began to move, so did he, moving round the room so agile and fast, strong and sure. He circled me, joining with the notes...enveloping me in his and their warmth, taking me away from the stress and the pain. I felt...protected. As if this familiarity would lead me through anything...the music escalated. Yes, yes he was familiar. The way he moved...the same steps I would take, the same expression...

"Ah, Clair de Lune," came a voice.

I snapped out of it. Madame Cox stood at the door, dressed in her usual black long sleeved leotard and skirt. I hurriedly stood up and curtsied, and then switched off the music.

"A good piece. Quite lyrical," she nodded in thought, and then walked in. "How is your concussion, Miss Swan?"

"Gone," I said, still recovering from the music. I knew that he had affected the way I'd listened to it, but...it was like the swans in Swan Lake...the memory of him dancing to it just made the notes mean something more...and I had thought that seeing him dance to it had taken something away from the music for me...but he had drawn me closer, as if it linked me to _him. _But that was silly – why would I feel comforted by Edward?

The answer was all too obvious. Of course I felt comforted by him. The same way he had comforted me after Mike had dropped me, when I had been shaken and scared. I remembered his warm breath in my ear, his hands on my waist...the way he had stared into my eyes. The familiarity I had with his movements, even in my memory...it was the connection. That feeling it seemed we both shared...it was as if that understanding could act as an extra support...

"There are a few changes I want to make after seeing the class today," Madame Cox's voice beat through to my thoughts.

Reminding myself that I had to focus, I nodded.

I nodded again.

"Good, now let's begin," she clapped her hands and went to stand where the audience would be.

I then immersed myself in the exact thing that had caused all of today's strife.

Madame Cox had changed several things, and she changed even more as she watched me rehearse. The technique I needed was becoming engrained, though, and I knew I was improving. Thinking about the connection spurred me on further. I knew it might not exist, I knew that Edward probably didn't want it to exist, I knew that it wasn't even certain whether he'd felt it with me – but it still brought me through the gruelling repetition. Now more than ever, I had to remind him.

Like last night, we worked for hours. The rain was a constant companion to the piano, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. "Remember those extensions!" Madame Cox called as I went through the finishing bars. "And show the change! Good!"

The music ended and I stood up straight again, waiting for Madame Cox's notes. But she was looking away distastefully, "I don't doubt that you can pull this off, Miss Swan, but we must both understand that it is a class competition." She looked at me. "What I mean to say is that if we lose, don't take it upon yourself."

I nodded, though I knew I wouldn't be able to help questioning...

Madame Cox sighed, "It's very good. I don't believe we can get any further without the rest of the class. Tomorrow you will be able to dance legally, as it were?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good," she said, "at least one of my students is ready."

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Alright, I will certainly try to update ASAP - I am just as anxious as poor Madame Cox to see the review

**So, what are you thinking? Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

Happy New Year's Eve!

Alright, I have good news and bad news

Bad news: I didn't put all that I wanted to put into this chapter and consequently I'll have to squeeze another chapter in, which I didn't want.

Good news: Despite not putting all I wanted in, this chapter is the second longest in the story! Huzzah!

This strange occurrence is mainly due to being a tutu junky and realizing some things needed more coverage than I'd planned.

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

**You are my inspiration, my cajolers, my advisors and supporters! Thank you!**

**However, there is a comment from 'Tiff' which I need to reply to:**

**Don't threaten that I'm going to 'lose all my friends/readers'. Not necessary.**

Alright, sorry that's public, but I couldn't reply any other way.

Ah yes, one more thing: I know I have mentioned Jasper having a Southern accent, but I, being the silly thing that I am, was wrong. Rose and him are from elsewhere.

Alright, here is Chapter Sixteen!

Please Review and ENJOY!

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I woke to the light patter of rain on the windows. I glanced at my clock. Seven-fifteen. Saturday. I had made it through the week...but there was no guarantee I would make it through the next two day. I sighed, not wanting to abandon the safety and warmth of my duvet. Here, wrapped in my own little world, I was safe...except that I was in a dorm full of nineteen other girls.

Remembering this, I glanced around. There was none of the usual morning chatter and groans about aches and pains of classes. There wasn't even the conspiratorial whispering I'd heard yesterday... the girls from Master Rodriguez's class moved about silently, exchanging worried looks with each other. Eliza was carefully making her bed, a blank expression on her face. What was it? What was happening? I hesitantly got out of bed.

"Good morning Bella." Came Lauren's voice, loud and poisonous.

Master Rodriguez's girls nervously moved away back against their beds.

At the end of the room stood most of the others, dressed and ready, glaring at me as one. It was like Ballet History again...but then I looked at what they were all holding. Footbaths. In any other setting it would be comical – the footbath army – but my eyes caught on a big wooden box that had been turned over and shunted to the side. My trunk! Lauren stood at the front of the group, chewing passively on a piece of gum. And all my clothes, my books, my pointe shoes, lay at her feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

Lauren smiled maliciously, "Teaching you a lesson."

I shook my head incredulously, "What gives you the right?"

She shrugged, "This is what happens to little bitches who think they're better than everyone else. You've completely screwed up everything. Now we're going to show you what you've put us through because you wanted to do some crappy little dance by yourself." She lifted up her footbath, smiling at me over it. "There are a few toenails – and of course some blood and stuff from my blisters. All left to stew overnight," she tipped it.

"You...!" I yelled as the yellow-brown coloured water poured onto the pile of clothes. Quickly, the others joined in, all pouring their footbaths onto everything I owned at _Force_. It splashed on my old copy of Pride and Prejudice and my school books. I should have been trying to stop them, but I was frozen, unable to believe...

Jessica was the last to empty hers onto my clothes. She looked at me innocently as it splattered onto my leos, "I used oatmeal and cocoa butter last night. Oh, and the dead skin's from me and Mikey."

"How mature," I said stiffly as they returned to their places behind Lauren.

"You think you're so much better than us," she sneered. "But trust me, age is seriously not an asset." She leant down and picked up my pointe shoes from the top of the pile. The ribbons dripped with that disgusting liquid. Giving me a terrible smile, she took the gum out of her mouth.

"What the _hell?" _Muttered one of the onlookers as Lauren stuck the gum to the bottom of my shoe.

"You _bitch!" _I seethed, suddenly unfreezing. I marched right down the room, my fist raised, reading to freaking –

"Five minutes, mes chéris!" Madame Esme called through the door.

My knuckles froze inches from that skanky little face. For once she looked scared.

_But now is not the time..._

Taking a hard breath, I snatched my pointe shoes away from her, anger storming in me. "You are so damned stupid," I said coldly, then looked over her shoulder at the others. "I wouldn't look so smug. You've just done exactly what you claimed _I_ did; you've stopped the lead role from performing. _Now _the review might be ruined." They shuffled uncomfortably. They were such sheep...I focussed back on Lauren.

I looked her up and down, praying that God was seeing this right now. Then I ripped one of the bobby-pins out of her bun. She squeaked in fright. "Thanks," I muttered, and spun on my heel back to my own bed.

The room was held in silence for a second before it suddenly burst into over-enthusiastic action. I knew they'd put my trunk back for me – they were too coward to get caught. I took Lauren's bobby-pin and began scraping the bright blue gum off my shoe. I couldn't show them how upset I was. How sunk my heart felt at the moment, how lonely I was. Fortunately, anger is easy to feign, particularly when it _is _there, even if it's not foremost in your mind. I stared darkly out the window. I had been talking crap. Those idiots would _never _stop me from performing. I would show them...this would only fuel my resolve...

"Bella," came a quiet voice. I snapped around, then saw it was Eliza, standing anxiously by my bed. I noticed a small pile of folded clothes on my duvet. I looked back to Eliza. Her eyes flicked nervously to where the others were filling up my trunk.

My eyes prickled. Strength, Bella... "Thanks," I said quietly.

She nodded, giving me a sad smile. "I'm sorry," she whispered, then quickly went back to her own bed.

I swallowed down my hurt feelings, and quickly pulled on the tights and leo she'd given me. The tights were one-size fits all, but the plain camisole leo hung off me a little. I didn't mind; at least I didn't have to go to breakfast in my polka-dot PJs. Megan and Violet had been given the job of pushing my trunk back to the foot of my bed. I stared at the as they did it, unable to get the image of two carriage horses out of my head. Lauren, of course, was the driver. "Violet," I said as she stood up, dusting of her tights. She gave me and curt smile. I held out the bobby-pin, covered in gum. "Would you give this to Lauren?"

She scrunched her nose and tentatively took it. A carriage horse alright.

Madame Esme didn't notice anything when she came in for dorm inspection. She only ordered that we were not to spray so much perfume about in the future. I guessed that stewed footbaths didn't smell so good. I tried to hold my head high as everyone else left for breakfast. Lauren smirked at me as she strutted past, though I noticed her flick her hairpin into the trashcan at the door.

Some of the girls from the other class looked sympathetically at me as they left. I didn't need sympathy – I needed a new wardrobe of ballet wear and the money to pay for new textbooks. I wasn't going to get either. Eliza left with a concerned look at me. Obviously I wasn't as good at concealing my emotions as I'd thought. I gave everyone else time to leave before I went out into the corridor.

I walked slowly, any numbness soon washing out of me, and the sadness overcoming me. It wasn't that I wanted their friendship. God knows what sort of friends they would be. And it wasn't that I thought they were right in any way. Maybe I had ruined the review, but no one could know it yet.

What it was that I felt degraded. I had let them have this on me...I had let them get the better of me. I had let them defile me, in front of an audience that would doubtless go and tell everyone else. I had just _stood _there, doing nothing, whilst they'd ruined everything I owned. I knew I could wash out my clothes, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that those were _my _clothes. _My _things, and Lauren had shown that she could walk all over them. That translated to walking all over _me._

I dashed away the tears in my eyes as I reached the dining hall. I had to show them that they couldn't get to me. I walked in, going straight to the line. I couldn't escape the laughter coming from Lauren's table. _Degraded..._

"Morning Bella!" Alice greeted cheerfully.

"Morning," I managed to get out. I sat down next to her, putting my fruit salad on the table with no intention of eating it. Everyone was here, including Edward and Tanya. In a moment of reprieve, I remembered last night, sitting in the studio, watching my memory of him...I reached out to take comfort from his protective stance, the strength in his movements...God, that was what I needed right now...but he was sitting right here, looking away distastefully, as if the dog had just joined the dinner table...

"Bella?"

I snapped out of it at Alice's voice. I realized she'd asked me a question. "Sorry?"

Jasper laughed, "It seems little Bella's not a morning person!" I blushed.

Alice rolled her eyes theatrically, "Well, I was going to ask how you were, but it seems the answer's 'half-asleep'."

"Oh I don't think Bella's half-asleep," said Tanya. I looked at her. She smiled back gloatingly, "She had quite the wakeup call from what I hear."

"What's this?" Rosalie inquired. I swallowed. No, I didn't need it brought up here...

Tanya giggled, glad to have everyone's attention, "Everyone's talking about it – Jessica Stanley sent a text round this morning." No..._no..._

Emmett sighed, "Tanya, get on with it."

She just smirked and handed him her phone.

He flipped it open. His forehead creased into an angry frown. "What the _fuck?"_

"What does it say?" I muttered, reaching for it.

"I don't think you should..." He tried to pull away, but I grabbed it.

_7:32am Jess Stanley_

_bighed bellas trunk got owned. cn any1 say toenail soup? LOL XD serves the biatch right._

I felt that horrible freeze in my chest and throat. Alice read it next to me.

"Oh my God, Bella," she said, grabbing my hand, "What happened?"

Just breathe in...out...in...

"What does it say?" Rosalie demanded impatiently.

I swallowed again. It seemed like saying what had happened would make it that much worse.

Tanya sighed exasperatedly, "It's not _that _bad. Bella just made her class to do all the work for her and so they showed her how – "

"They took all my books and clothes and poured their footbaths on them," I said quietly, staring down at my bowl.

"_What?"_ Edward was suddenly animated, his powerful green eyes looking directly at me, furious. His hands were tense on the table.

I blinked. He'd been so quiet... "They..." I trailed off. That feeling I'd had last night, it was back, and now it was so real...protection...it was like he _cared..._I didn't need to say anything – my face felt like an open book to him. He knew I was upset.

Edward eventually looked down again, once more shutting off from the conversation.

"Well, I guess that explains why you're wearing an over sized leo and ripped tights," murmured Alice.

Tanya sniggered, "I have to it admit – it's kind of original, don't you think?"

"Ugh, shut _up,_ Tanya," said Alice.

"That is seriously low," growled Emmett.

"_Leetle _skanks," seethed Rosalie, sounding extremely Russian, "Why did they do that?"

"I already told you," said Tanya, "she ruined the review and – "

"Shut up, Tanya," Alice snapped again, "It's all crap; Bella had a concussion and she couldn't dance her part. It wasn't her fault."

"Those arses," muttered Jasper, "that is just ridiculous."

I stood up, picking up my untouched fruit salad. "I'll see you later; I have to get to class."

"You aren't going anywhere like that, Bella," Alice gestured to my clothes. "We can't have them thinking they've won." She stood up next to me. I nodded hesitantly and we turned to go.

"Bella," Edward suddenly said.

My heart seemed to thud faster when he said my name...I looked back at him. "Who was it?" He asked blank

I hesitated...I didn't want to tattle-tale...but his eyes seemed so dangerous... "Lauren." I said quietly

His face darkened, and he nodded, fixing me with a look that sent warmth flooding through my chest. It was sinister...and reassuring...

Eventually, I tore my eyes from him and Alice led me away.

The warmth was still there as we trailed past Lauren's table. They all laughed as I passed. The blotchy shoes in my hands probably didn't help.

"Those idiots," Alice murmured. "We'll get back at them somehow."

We went up the stairs and turned down the senior corridor again. "I have a few extra leos to spare," she told me as we stopped outside Room Twenty-Three. She got out a key. "I just can't _believe _that bitch would go so far. Can't she understand what a concussion is?" She pushed open the door.

Just for a moment, I was utterly distracted. "A _few _extra leos?" I repeated.

She flicked the lights on. There was fabric _everywhere. _Great big rolls of it leant against the walls, cuttings cast onto the floor along with bright coloured threads. Three bodices were lined up, all with unfinished tutus on them, and there were more tutus piled next to a sewing machine in the corner. There was a shelf with dyes all lined up, and underneath were rows of different coloured pointe shoes – some decorated, some not. Three chests of drawers lined the other side of the room, all of which were over spilling with multi-coloured leos and tights. Nailed to the ceiling above them was a clothing rack, with even more tutus and skirts and costumes hanging from coat hangers.

"This is like a Ballet Fashionista's _dream."_

Alice grinned, "I know. _My _dream. Jazz can hardly stand it in here. Too girly. And of course the dyes have a tendency to reek." She glanced at her phone watch. "Okay, we have very little time. You need a leo and tights. Yes?"

"Right," I said, deciding it was better not to argue as she launched deep into the swamp of fabrics and colours. I tentatively stepped in, barely making out the single bed which was covered in several green and gold romantic tutus. Looking past the hanging clothes, I could see posters of Disney Princesses stuck to the walls. "Disney fan, huh?"

"Uhuh," came Alice's muffled voice. Her head seemed to be deep in one of the drawers. "Only the classics, though. I was horrified when I heard Jesse McCartney mumbling out The Second Star to the Right. Peter Pan should not be touched by anyone over the age of five, in my opinion. And if we ever do the ballet then I _will _be Tinkerbell, because I will stay entirely true to the proper character. She was never meant to be nice and gooey. And Jessica Simpson singing a Whole New World?" She made retching noises into an old leg warmer.

I laughed despite myself.

"Alright," she said, finally coming out holding a powder purple leo and white tights. She threw them to me. "Oh, and for later..." she went back into the drawers.

"Alice," I said, examining the beautiful light purple fabric. It had shining silvery gemstones trailing up to one shoulder strap. "This is entirely against the uniform code."

She laughed, "Ah, Bella, have you _ever _seen me in that tacky drained-pink and black ensemble?" For the first time today, I noticed what she was wearing; thigh high green leg warmers, black tights and a green halter neck leo. "Besides," she continued, "you should have costumes to rehearse in now so you won't be in it for long. I've already finished making my class's. I've been working on them for _ages."_

"But we only found out about the review this week," I said.

She grinned, throwing me a pile of ordinary city clothes. "When one of your best friends is the headmaster's son, it's not too hard to find out stuff you shouldn't know. Come on! Get changed!"

I obediently slipped out of Eliza's clothes. I still owed her one. "Oh God!" Exclaimed Alice. I spun around, half twisted up in tights, thinking she'd just seen the end of the world. But no, she was staring at my shoes. "Bella..." she said, horrified, then growled, "I am going to _kill _those little first years. I am going to go into your dorm and fill their own damned shoes with _super glue."_

I scrunched my nose, "That might be a little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"Nope," she said, picking up my shoes to study them closer, _"we _have a good reason – is this _gum?"_

"Yep," I muttered; there had never been any real hope of getting gum out of satin.

She huffed and grabbed a roll of sports tape from the shelf. With seamstress-skill, she quickly measured up the toe box and taped over the gum. "You need new pointes, Bella, and fast...wait, you're doing the solo?"

I realized I hadn't told her all that had happened since our conversation on Thursday. "Yeah. That's why they were extra pissed."

I could tell she wanted to ask more, but she just thrust the shoes back into my hands, "Go into Wrystone after classes today – there's a shop on the main street. I think they're Freed retailers. You can't go onstage with these. Right?"

"Right," I confirmed.

She handed me a plastic bag and I quickly stuffed Eliza's clothes and the street wear in.

We parted ways by the stairs. "Okay, are you going to be alright?" She asked, putting her hands on my shoulders.

I nodded, "Thanks for the clothes. I owe you one."

She grinned, "Yes, you owe me all your adorable black leotards once they've been washed so that I can force you into wearing more things like this. You look much more like a prima ballerina."

"Except I'm not," I pointed out.

"Within your class you are _le Danseuse Principal!" _I smiled at her French ardour. She looked at me seriously, "You're the best in your class, Bella. Lauren Thick-as-a-brick Mallory isn't." She gave me a quick hug. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle Bella!" She flitted away to her classroom, and I was left alone in the corridor.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way to studio eight. Alice was right; if my fear was them walking all over me, then I shouldn't let them do it again. They wanted to dumb down my skill and make me look like an idiot. I wouldn't let them.

I opened the door.

Everyone was quiet, but unlike yesterday, they were expectant, excited. This morning's verbal punch-bag had arrived.

"Hey, it's foot-balm Bella!" Called out Mike.

I raised a demure eyebrow at him, "Good Morning, Mike."

Ballet dancer posture...chest high, chin up, look tall...

Lauren stood around a group of new admirers and fans with a smirk. "Great, the last rehearsal and the lead finally shows up."

"Good of you to join us," said Megan.

Lauren looked me up and down, "Now we can see what we changed the choreography _two times _for."

I went to the front barre – which was completely vacant – and hooked my right leg over in a stretch.

Tyler stepped forward. I hadn't talked to any of the boys since Thursday, and now Tyler looked grumpily at me, "Do you know how much bull we've been through just because you kept changing the choreography? Do you know how hard it is?"

I nodded curtly and turned round, putting my other leg up.

"And it's gonna be awful having to teach you all the formations," said Violet.

"Yeah," said Megan, folding her arms, "You have to lead a spiral at the end."

"And there's the men's section in the middle where you have to get off the stage," said Mike. I sat down on the floor for a butterfly stretch.

Ryan looked up from putting on his shoes, "And there's tour jetes crossing over before the spiral."

"Oh my _God," _groaned Jessica, "She's not even going to know where she starts the weaving around." She raised her eyebrows at me, "You start with Abigail and then you move on to me, and then you go to Eliza and then – "

"You know," I interrupted, leaning over to get my pointe shoes, "You're all complaining about how difficult it is to learn it in such a short amount of time, but you all seem to have memorized it quite well." I swiftly tied a double knot.

"That's because we've worked our butts off!" Said one of the other girls – she'd had a pink foot bath, if I remembered correctly.

"Good," I said, tying my other shoe and standing up. I looked at the whole class. "So have I."

Before Lauren could come up with a snappy comment, Madame Cox came in, followed by Mister Woolston and two second-year boys carrying two big boxes.

"Thank you, boys, just put them there," instructed Madame Cox. They dumped them by the piano with relief and then left.

"Alright, starting positions if you please!" Madame Cox called. "We'll do it once through without the costumes!"

Nerves suddenly jabbed in me. Everyone went back against the walls, every one of them staring at me. Some looked sceptical and annoyed...but some looked expectant, or at least willing to wait and see before they judged. "Miss Swan what on Earth are you wearing?"

"Sorry Ma'am, all my other leos are in the wash."

"Hm," Madame Cox raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. Meanwhile, my class was sniggering.

_Deep breaths..._I would show them...I went to the centre and took up my arabesque. Lauren stood right in front of me, glaring, but there was a challenging smirk on her face.

_Don't get distracted..._I looked past her to the white wall. The first notes began and Lauren and the others blurred. I knew the music too well to deny it. Its influence was stronger than theirs. The notes tumbled as I did, lifting my leg high and straight above me. I was part of it again...I gently stood back again, step turning, feeling as if I'd never realized I could dance...and I went forward, reaching out, and then curtsied. I couldn't help the smile on my face. Anticipation. The fast notes began. Yes, yes I was in!

"Miss Mallory, Miss Davidson where are you!" Called Madame Cox. I kept focussed on my own part, spinning joyously. "Good and enter second line! And now all ladies!" We began the full dance. I couldn't look in the mirror, but I knew I was in sync with the others. I began weaving through the line of girls behind me. That was odd – I wasn't used to other people being there. My extensions were less than perfect, but I knew I was getting the right order – Madame Cox had taught me all the class formations.

And then we were 'offstage' as the boys entered. My caught my breath as they leapt across the studio, suddenly more manly than boyish. Listening to the deep, low notes, I realized that they were connecting with it, making them their own...I smiled.

"And ladies come on from the back! And everyone pirouette! And Miss Swan lead off!" I ran and leapt down the line, feeling the air whoosh past me as I thrust high into the sky, my legs doing the splits in the air. And everyone followed as I curled around into a tight spiral. "Good and everyone circle her!" I couldn't see anything except quick moving bodies as my class circled tightly around me. "And Miss Swan burst out! Let's see the change! Everyone else fade to the back! And arabesque!" I ended, my chest and leg high, my arms reaching to the ceiling. Mister Woolston stopped the piano. I came back down, breathing harder than ever. Jesus...

I looked up at my class, the nerves hitting me full force this time. I had told myself that I wouldn't listen to their insults until I had shown them what I could do. Now that I had...

"What the hell was with the curtsy?" Said Lauren, folding her arms.

"The chainments were wobbly," said Megan.

"Are you kidding?" Violet suddenly spoke up, "That was fine!" She was beaming at me. Lauren looked at her pointedly. Violet looked at her evenly, "Well how many of us can do a penche en pointe?"

"_I _can," said Megan.

Eliza rolled her eyes, "I don't think that's the point, Megan. We were all wrong; Bella fits in fine."

"Yeah, that's my point," said Violet, "The review's not ruined!"

"Ugh," Lauren huffed, "I seriously doubt it, Violet. I guess you're back in diapers again."

"I heard Master Rodrgiuez's class has a Pas de Deux in theirs," grumbled Jessica. "And they've already rehearsed it in the theatre. _They _stuck with their choreography."

"I bet if we'd stuck with the second version then we would have won," said Mike. "Having a soloist is just tacky."

"Come on, let's get some water." Megan, Tyler, Lauren, Jessica and Mike all stood up, walking away from me. But Violet and Eliza stayed.

It was bizarre how fast Violet changed sides...but maybe that was all it had been for her; the review. With Lauren and Jessica and Megan, it had been more than that. But it the review was okay, then it seemed that Violet was happy.

And if she thought the review was okay then that meant that my solo was okay...but the rest of the class seemed politely disinterested. I still didn't know...but I had to take Eliza and Violet sticking up for me as a good sign.

"Alright," Madame Cox clapped her hands. She'd been talking to Mister Woolston, "Ladies you need to be tighter on your second entrance after the gentlemen. Remember the pirouettes during the circles need to be as tight as you can get and _everyone's _toes need more point."

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright, here I have the costumes for the review," she said, gesturing to the boxes. "Gentlemen will wear the usual black tights with one of the sashes in this box pinned to them. Shirtless."

I heard Jessica and Violet hi-five. So life _did _exist when Lauren wasn't around.

"Ladies your names are tagged to the packaging. You will change in here, gentlemen can wait outside. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," we chorused.

There was something extremely exciting about opening the girls' box. It was like Christmas. Eliza delved her hands inside and brought out a light blue tutu. It was a classical one – stiff and circular, only dropping a little and sticking out a good fourteen inches. They had a light blue leotard attached to them. Violet squealed excitedly. Strangely, I felt like it as well. Soon, the box was all but destroyed as everyone tried to find their own tutu. They were all identical, except for size, of course. I'd never worn a tutu before. The very symbol of a ballerina, and I had never danced in one. I buried my hands in the tulle netting. I'd heard people say they were scratchy, but who cared?

The tutus gradually found their owners, but I was left sitting by the box. None of them had my name on it.

"This is what happens when keep changing plans, Bella," said Lauren, plucking here tutu out of the box. "See, you were too late for the ordering. I knew this review was still going to be a disaster."

"Miss Mallory go and get changed," said Madame Cox, coming up behind us. "Miss Swan was certainly too late for the orders."

My heart fell. I would be doing the performance in my normal leo and tights?

Madame Cox reached into the boys box. "Fortunately, the academy keeps its costumes from previous performances," she brought out a large tutu bag and put it on the floor in front of me. I nervously unzipped it. Was it going to be like the PE clothes back at Forks High? Where if you didn't bring your own you had to wear the old and stinking design from the sixties?

But I tugged on the edge of some blue tulle. The whole tutu came out, as if it had a life of its own. It certainly wasn't like Fork's.

It was Royal Blue, with a proper bodice which looked like a corset without strings. But what was truly beautiful was the golden design sewn onto the top of the skirt and in a 'v' on the bodice. Like golden vines. I stroked the satin of the bodice. "It's beautiful," I said.

Madame Cox smiled, "A costume is only as beautiful as the moves of the dancer wearing it, Miss Swan. And a costume like this only requires more work because _you_ mustlive up to _its_ finesse. So certainly don't rely on this to get you through the review. Your extensions still need work."

I nodded, "Yes Ma'am."

I was out of Alice's leotard and into the scratchy tutu in a flash. But it was impossible to get the bodice together when I couldn't see what I was doing.

"Bella?" Eliza said tentatively, coming up behind me. "Do you want some help?"

"Thanks," I said appreciatively.

"Okay, breathe in," instructed Eliza.

I took a deep breath and she quickly hooked up my bodice. "Done."

"I can't breathe..."

She laughed, "You're not meant to be able to."

"Right." It looked beautiful, though, even if it constricted my airways...I touched the delicate golden beads on one of the curls.

"Okay, from the top, if you please! Miss Price would you tell the gentlemen to come back in?"

Costumes seemed to have a big effect on the class. Despite what Madame Cox said, they really did add to the look of the performance. Everyone seemed a bit livelier.

But I was having problems. Every time I did an arm movement, my arms hit the tutu. "Keep your hands higher, Miss Swan!" Madame Cox called as I broke out of my pirouettes yet again. The backs of my hands were red where they brushed the tulle. It also made moving around the others more difficult. The spacing had to change because we were all about thirty inches wider than we used to be. I felt clumsy in it, but gradually I got used to the bouncing weight around my waist. At least it didn't get in the way of my legs.

By the time class ended, everyone was scratched and tired. As I finished the dance for the last time, everyone else was already getting ready to leave. I hung my tutu upside down on a hanger and gave it to Madame Cox for safe keeping. "Oh, Miss Swan!" She called just as I was about to leave. "You're not going on stage with those shoes on, are you?"

I shook my head, "No ma'am."

Lauren brushed past me, giggling.

I curtsied a thank you and left.

She still thought she'd won...I sighed, heading for Pas de Deux.

"Bella!" Eliza caught up with me, "Look, I'm really sorry about being all distant these past couple of days. I really did think that you could've tried harder to help the class...but obviously you _have _been trying. And I never wanted Lauren to do that thing to you this morning."

"You didn't know about it?" I asked.

She shook her head, "Only when I woke up. I'm really sorry, though, I should've said something..."

"No, one sodden trunk's better than two, you know," I told her, and smiled, "Don't worry about it, I just wish everyone had waited till they'd seen me." Though even now I wasn't sure what they thought...

She grinned back, "You should have seen Lauren's face, though Bella. She's not happy with your dance at all."

* * *

Picture of tutu is my avatar, but it hasn't updated to it yet, so soon!

**Last Chapter of 2010!**

:D Hope you all have a good New Years and I will update you very soon in 2011 :D

Send me your last review of the decade!


	17. Chapter 17

By God, SHE'S ALIVE!

She is also not:

Lazy, Uncommitted, Dead (being alive kind of makes that impossible...) or About to Delete the Story

No, she's going to give you the next update after what has been one of the busiest Januaries she has ever seen.

An hour after Midnight, New Year's, I got violently sick.

New Year's day (yes, I recovered rather quickly), we capsized our sailing dinghy.

And then, on the second day of 2011, tragedy struck: my laptop died.

And of course, since New Year's is holiday time, no one would fix it until last week. I _did _use another computer, but I found it very difficult to write Clair in the wrong environment (call me pathetic, but I tried and failed :D) and so instead I began a new **Twilight Fanfic: Tudor London. **Have a read sometime!

Anyway, then we had an endless train of visitors through our house. I have ne'er spent so much time in the kitchen (a place I don't like to venture into for fear of making the World explode). Three batches of health cookies and four raspberry cakes and several chicken salads later, I got my laptop and my house back to myself.

Then I (unwillingly) left my house and my laptop to go down south.

There I went for a four day tramp.

It was great fun, although I now have sandfly bites _everywhere,_and my poor feet have just about had it.

Then we spent a while down south, a while when I finally got to read my reviews! Woohoo!

Well...mostly woohoo...there were two or three which had me seething...

Don't accuse writers of being lazy and uncommitted when you don't know what is going on in their lives - in my case, disciplinarian approach really doesn't work.

Anyway, **Nea **and **Vamp Gyrl**...thanks, guys, don't worry, I won't get a restraining order :D. You have both been just epic! **DMG**...XD thank you for your coaxing

**Thank you so very much if you sent me a review!**

**You're what makes this worth writing, with your encouragement, advise, thoughts, queries...thank you**

I have a backlog of reviews to reply to, which I will do within the next few days. **Sophie** and **Vivi**, I am going to reply ASAP, I am very sorry!

Alright, well done if you managed to read the entire A/N...well, a month is a long time. I've included a list of a few last names, just as a refresher.

**Please review!**

**and ENJOY!**

* * *

_Tyler Crowley_

_Ryan Smith_

_Ben Cheney_

_Eliza Richardson_

_Rain - Dax Johnson_

_The Meadow - Alexandre Desplat

* * *

_

_This Chapter is Dedicated to Fragantia and Her Two New(ish) Bundles of Unrelenting Joy!_

* * *

"So what have I missed?" I asked Eliza as we went in to Pas de Deux. I gave Peter a wave. He stood in his usual corner by the piano, doing fast piques. He gave a quick smile back and then returned to his blank concentration.

"Not much," Eliza told me. "Edward's still going on about standards. And he won't let us do any lifts except straight up and down."

We sat down on the floor. "After what happened with Angela, I can see why," I said, pulling my heels in and pushing my knees down.

Eliza gave me a pained look, "Seriously, we're going to have to get onto the more complex stuff sometime – it might as well be now. We don't need to do overheads, but just _something."_

I frowned, looking down at my pointe shoe. The sports tape was coming off. I sighed, trying to push it back down onto the blue-stained satin. Eliza passed me her roll of toe tape. It was bright yellow with smiley faces on it.

"Shoe problems, Bella?" Lauren smirked at me from across the room. Everyone turned to listen.

I smiled back, "Don't concern yourself, Lauren; I'll still be able to dance. Shoes are a minor issue." I ripped off a piece of tape and stuck it over the old one. My shoes already looked awful – I decided smiley faces couldn't make them that much worse.

She snorted, leaning back against the barre, "Yeah, let's not get into the _major _issues. Like how you keep knocking everyone else over in your tutu." A few of the girls glanced at each other, silently agreeing. I kept my face confident, but inside my nerves stirred. It hadn't been _knocking _exactly_, _but I knew I'd misjudged a lot of my distances, and I _had _made others lose their balance. "Your own dance isn't so great anyway, but do you have to screw all of us up as well?"

I glared at her, not knowing how to answer. I couldn't deny it.

But then Eliza spoke up, "She's doing a damn good job considering she's had a concussion for the past few days, or has everyone forgotten that?"

Lauren turned her toxic gaze to her, "The judges don't know that, though, do they?" She looked around the class, "All they'll see is a little bitch who has no connection to her class and dances round sloppily in a tutu which she doesn't deserve. It doesn't matter if poor baby hit her head. There aren't any excuses in ballet, are there, _Bella?" _

I bit the inside of my cheek, anger rising in me.

The door opened. Everyone snapped around.

"Good Morning, class!" Edward strode into the room, followed by Mrs Gerran. A thrill shot up my body despite myself. He wore the usual black shoes, trackpants and a fitted v-neck t-shirt which gave a small glimpse of his muscular chest. He seemed oblivious to the tension which was slowly leaving the room. Lauren gave me one last snide look as we all stood up.

"Good Morning, sir."

Edward looked darkly around us, his gaze brushing over me. Eventually he settled on Mike, who'd been sitting against the wall with Tyler and Ryan. "Mister Newton," said Edward, "You've been given permission to join back into my classes."

I looked up sharply. What? Would he be my partner? Horrible flashes came back to me – no air, not breathing, suffocated by his arm, his body too close, the heat, his nails digging into me…I gulped. No…no Mike couldn't dance with me…but surely he would have learnt his lesson…surely he knew now how to hold someone…but I was happy with Peter – comfortable, at least…but would Edward let him dance with me? He had seemed so angry at him…

But Edward's expression was neither worried nor displeased. In fact, his business-like face was almost happy, "Mister Crowley, you will be partnered with Mister Smith. Mister Cheney, you can take his place with Miss Richardson. Mister Newton, you will be partnered with Miss Mallory."

"_What?" _Exclaimed Lauren.

Ryan and Tyler were looking at each other in horror.

I was worried for Ben, though, who'd been standing alone at the back; he looked petrified. I knew he had only been watching classes, much like Mike, because of the accident. But Eliza was surely the best person for him to get back into Pas de Deux with. She would understand his fears…I looked back to Tyler and Ryan

"But we're both _guys," _Tyler was saying imploringly.

"Yes, Mister Crowley," Edward nodded, "I realize that. There is a lot to be learnt from reversing roles. If you want proper understanding of your partner then you need to understand what it feels like to be the person being held. You'll stay partners for a few days and then I will change it again."

"Wait, he's _my _partner," said Lauren incredulously, her hands on her hips. "I'm not swapping for _Mike."_

Edward raised his eyebrows, "Why not?"

"Because _Tyler _is my partner! Why me? Why not some one else? Why not _Bella? _She was Mike's old partner! That guy," she pointed nastily at Peter, "Isn't even in our class." Peter's face remained blank. I wondered if it mattered to him if he wasn't needed here anymore. He could go back to Ballet History. He wouldn't have to put up with my class and my own inexperienced dancing…

"_I_ want to go with Mike!" Jessica spoke up, sounding like a little kid demanding a toy someone else was playing with.

Edward shook his head, "Miss Mallory, Miss Stanley, this is not up for discussion. And neither is your partnership, Mister Crowley. I have chosen you for a good reason."

"What reason?" Demanded Lauren.

He smiled at her politely, although I caught the devious glint in his eyes. My curiosity sparked…but quickly he clapped his hands, "Positions, please! We begin with promenades in retiré. Mrs Gerran…"

Mrs Gerran began the first opening bars, and Edward went to talk to Eliza and Ben quickly. Hopefully to reassure him. I went to Peter, for once grateful to be back in his hands, and not in Mike's.

"I am not being the girl, dude," I heard Tyler say to Ryan behind us. I looked in the mirror.

Peter gave a tiny laugh behind me. I couldn't help but smile a little as I watched Tyler tentatively put his hands on Ryan's hips. Ryan looked like he was about to barf. Lauren and Mike stood right next to us, Lauren grumpily letting Mike prepare. It was selfish, but now that I knew I wasn't his partner, I felt a little sympathetic towards him. His hands were rested ever so lightly on Lauren's waist, and he swallowed, his eyes fixed on what he was doing.

"Alright and five six seven eight and ladies to retiré," I went onto pointe and lifted one foot sideways to my knee. "And turn five seven…" Peter walked gently around me, turning me as he went. "Add arms from second to fifth…" my arms came above my head and floated back out to the sides. I breathed in the music. It was slow and sensual, unlike the fast-paced review piece. "More fluid, Miss Mallory!" Edward ordered as he walked down the rows, scrutinizing every couple, "And into front attitude…" I stretched my leg out in front of me, leaning back against Peter. The back of my head rested against his shoulder.

I had a sudden yearning…almost painful…I wished it was Edward's shoulder…because it wouldn't be a position…it would be a comfort…a girl resting her head against her love's shoulder, taking solace in his warmth…I straightened ungracefully. What? _What _was I thinking? Edward was...he wasn't _anything...anything _near that...

And besides, the man himself now walked around the class, correcting people, taking no notice of me. "Into full promenades!" I put my leg the full way out behind me.

I caught sight of Ryan and Tyler in the mirror. "Stop freaking moving!" Tyler demanded as Ryan tried to do the normal, unpartnered promenade.

"I can't balance with you jostling me," muttered Ryan.

"Gentlemen, stop bickering," ordered Edward, not bothering to look at them as he helped Abigail Hartley with her turnout. Ryan hopped around, bashing Tyler in his side every time. "Work as a unit! And final turn six seven eight…Miss Mallory keep your leg up…alright change to the arm…" It was difficult, since Peter let go of my waist altogether, leaving me en pointe on one foot, and came round to take my hand and arm.

"For God's _sake!" _Lauren cursed beside us. She'd lost her balance without Mike.

"Engage you core, Miss Mallory, and you won't lose balance!" Edward strode over to the two of them.

"You have to keep me on centre," she snapped at Mike and went back up again. "And get your feet out of the way…" Mike nodded and swallowed again, now watching his feet step carefully around her.

During fouettes – pirouettes where you put you leg out between each spin, – Lauren managed to kick Mike in the groin. He grunted and let go of her. "You should be holding me further away!" She exclaimed as he crumpled over.

"You kicked on the wrong freaking side!" He groaned into his knees.

The class had already broken out into sniggers.

"Aren't you wearing a freaking ballet belt?" Lauren snapped back, when he still hadn't recovered.

"Miss Mallory," Edward said calmly, "Calculate your fouettes next time. Mister Newton, do join in as soon as you can. Mrs Gerran, if you please…"

There wasn't an exercise where Lauren and Mike didn't have some sort of argument.

By the time we got to combinations, both of them had battered each other to a pulp, though no one really understood how. Even Ryan and Tyler seemed to have fared better, though they'd spent a lot of their time swearing at each other about how heavy they were. "And straight into a pirouette! And keep turning!" Edward had his hands behind his back, focussing intensely on the dancers in front of him. "Come on Miss Mallory! You should still be turning! And up into arabesque! Stay en pointe! And lift!" Mike tried to lift Lauren. He huffed as he tried to hold her to the same height as everyone else.

"That's not good enough, Miss Mallory! And down – "

"_Jesus!" _Lauren exclaimed, stopping midstep. "It's not me that's the freaking problem!" She glared at Edward. "It's _Mike!"_

To my surprise, Edward gave a lopsided grin, folding his arms and leaning back against the barre. "Really, Miss Mallory?"

"_Yes!" _She hissed.

Edward's grin widened. "So you're blaming Mister Newton for your bad performance?"

Frowning, confused – like the rest of us – at what Edward was up to, she repeated, "Yes." Around me others were nodding in agreement.

"Because after last time's mishap it's obvious that Mister Newton is the one doing things wrong?"

"Yes." I felt a little sick in my gut. What was Edward doing? This was horrible...but almost everyone else seemed to be glad he was spelling it out, clearing any blame that could've been transferred to Lauren.

"And if any girl were to dance with Mister Newton she would undoubtedly have the same troubles you're having?"

"Yes," she said. I could see Mike's face fall. Why was Edward being so harsh about him? Surely it wasn't fair...

"And if you were to dance with Mister Crowley, as you have been the past few weeks, you yourself would be absolutely fine?"

"Yes," she said, now curt.

Edward pushed himself off the barre, unfolding his arms. "Mister Crowley, then," he gestured for him to join Lauren. Mike, head hung, began walking to the group at the back of the class. But Edward shook his head, "No, Mister Newton, you will stay." Mike turned back to him, confused. Edward's grin was lost for a moment, and his face turned serious. Suddenly he was looking at me. "Miss Swan, can you partner Mister Newton for this combination?"

Everyone looked at me. After everything that had happened last time? After Edward's reaction...he wanted me to dance with Mike? I prayed my horror wasn't so blatantly plastered on my face as it was in my mind...there was no way I could...but Edward's eyes held mine. He was telling me to trust him. Trust that he knew what he was doing...that he wouldn't let Mike hurt me again...

The surprise of my class was obvious when I slowly nodded to Edward. He smiled at me. It made me feel like my heart was glowing...God, I could have stared at that smile all day...but as soon as I had seen it, it disappeared and Edward turned to mark out the movements. I nervously went to stand by Mike. Eliza shot me a concerned look. Mike looked terrified. I tried to give him a reassuring smile. _If he was hurting Lauren then she would have complained about it, _I told myself. Still, the images of my last dance with Mike wouldn't leave me...

"Alright, begin with three steps forward, then promenade held by the hands. Ladies hold en pointe and then pirouette. Then lift, ending in back attitude." Edward narrowed his eyes at Lauren, "It's short, but I'm sure you'll be able to prove your point in that time, Miss Mallory." He nodded for Mrs Gerran to begin playing.

Mike hesitantly took my hands. Trust Edward...Trust Edward... "And steps forward.."

Mike walked me forward. "Up to arabesque..." My nerves began screaming. The way he had held me last time...no, trust Edward...Edward...Mike gently turned me around. Edward...this would be fine...Edward wouldn't let anything happen...Mike let go of my hands, and I was left en pointe by myself. Next to me, Tyler let go of one of Lauren's hands, and then the other, not breaking contact with her. That way she couldn't lose her balance.

"Now pirouette..." Unlike last time, Mike's hands only turned me a few times. It wasn't like Peter at all – it was nervous, shaky...but it wasn't painful. Edward had been right...it was okay...but what about the lift? Oh God...the lift...when I'd lost all my breath, when Mike had dropped me, when Edward...but as I plied in preparation, Edward's eyes locked with mine. _It will be alright, _they seemed to say. And as Mike lifted me from the waist, I gracefully rose into the air, my arms high above me.

All the while, Edward looked at me, keeping my mind eerily calm and still. He only looked away when I was safely back on the ground, holding the final attitude around Mike. Mrs Gerran finished with a flourish of high notes.

Whilst I willed my heart to beat again, Edward was already looking at Lauren, "Miss Swan seems to have fared well with Mister Newton, Miss Mallory." I glanced back at Mike. He gave me a weak, relieved smile. I returned it, happy for him. "Of course," Edward continued, "I would have expected nothing less from someone who's been tutored by Master Carlisle."

I looked at Mike again. He was blushing deeply. Of course they wouldn't have stopped him learning Pas de Deux altogether. Master Carlisle had probably been giving him private lessons ever since the accident...Edward was grinning once more, "So, Miss Mallory, by means of simple deduction, we can see that it was you, not Mister Newton, who was the problem."

Lauren's nostrils flared, "That doesn't explain why I did totally fine with Tyler, _sir."_

Edward ignored the insult, "Mister Crowley is very accustomed to your laziness in partnering, Miss Mallory. I would have you dance with another person, but I believe Mister Newton proved it well enough." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Both of you show me the change over from the promenade to the pirouette." In a glimmer of realization, I understood what Edward meant.

With more confidence this time, Mike let go of my hands, balancing me precariously by myself, and walked round to take my waist. Tyler did the same as before, always giving Lauren something to balance on as he changed hands. "You see, Miss Mallory – you rely solely on Mister Crowley to keep you balanced, whereas Miss Swan was able to balance without the help of her partner. This time, Mister Crowley, perform it properly."

They did it again. Like earlier, when Mike and Lauren had been doing it, Lauren lost balance and had to go back to flat. Behind me, my class exchanged amused glances. Lauren's cheeks turned an angry red. "There are two lessons you should learn from this, Miss Mallory," Said Edward.

"Firstly, Pas de Deux is not about laziness on the lady's part, Miss Mallory. You work just as hard as the gentleman. From now on I will not give exception to your bad habits. And Mister Crowley," he looked to Tyler, "Never lower your standards on another person's behalf." He flicked a glance at Lauren, "They're usually not worth it."

The class sniggered. "The second lesson, Miss Mallory," Edward went on, not caring that Lauren was on the brink of bursting from anger or embarrassment – I couldn't tell which, "Is that you should never judge another dancer until you know that you can do better than them. Only then can you possibly understand what they are doing wrong. And as I understand it, Miss Mallory, you seem to have judged a few people who are far beyond your skill and experience," his eyes wavered to me for just a second. Edward's actions finally fell into place.

I should have known this morning when he'd asked me who'd organised the footbath stunt that he wouldn't have just let it go by. But he'd seemed so...so distant, so uncaring...I looked at him, trying to decipher the complex man I seemed to have become so curious of, but his cool expression betrayed nothing. Lauren, too, seemed to have realized what this was about.

Lauren wasn't Alice-short, but she wasn't tall, either. Edward towered over her, powerful just in his stance. For once, she had nothing to say. He looked too terrifying. "It wasn't your place to blame Mister Newton, just as it's not your place to pass judgement on any of your peers. The teachers, the ballet masters and mistresses, and, above all, the audience, are the ones who have proper right to judge a performance. I knew Mister Newton was doing fine," just as Madame Cox thought _I_ was doing fine, "Your judgement was wrong, and unnecessary."

His eyes narrowed, "But you thought you were right. Just like you think it's right to punish those who your judgements concern?" If there had been any doubt before, now everyone was certain of what Edward was referring to. He turned to the class, leaving a fuming Lauren behind him.

"Understand that none of you have any authority to pass judgement, much less to act on those judgements." He looked from person to person, his gaze as unavoidable as it was terrifying. "And if any of you ever decide you have the right to 'punish' someone again, you will be out of this class and every class of _Force_ within a day. Are we in understanding?"

"Yes sir," we chorused. My heart thudded as I curtsied. He had as much power in here as he did in his dance. I wondered if he knew just how much hold he had over everyone's emotions...or at least mine...but then that wasn't saying much – I was a ridiculous exception.

Edward gave everyone one last measured look...everyone except me. "Class dismissed," said Edward. He began heading for the door, but then stopped in an afterthought, "Oh, and Mister Smith and Mister Crowley, I am surprised you found lifting each other so difficult – seeing as you spent much of last night carrying trunks around."

Tyler paled. Edward raised his eyebrows, pushing open the door. He looked at me for the shortest of moments, just long enough for me to give him a silent 'thanks'. He nodded, his expression the same as when Mike had lifted me, not the powerful teacher my class had just witnessed, and left just in front of Mrs Gerran.

The room went completely still, where no one seemed to know what to do or say. Edward seemed to have said it all for them. Even Jessica and Violet, who always seemed to break such silences, were silent...

"Aha!" Suddenly the door was thrown open. In bounded Emmett and Jasper. What on Earth? "Thank God you're all still here!" Emmett exclaimed as Jasper kicked the door open with one of his long legs. A wicked smile was spread across his face. They were already dressed in their street clothes. Emmett was in a wife beater and trackpants, and Jasper in jeans and a black shirt. Strangely, Emmett was looking very serious as he stood in front of my bewildered class, keenly looking at them. "Now...which one is Lauren Mallory?"

Everyone looked over to Lauren, who was looking comically confused. "Aha!" Exclaimed Emmet. In three quick strides he was right in front of her. Even I felt slightly sorry for her; Emmett was a giant. I gave Jasper a questioning look. He just grinned conspiratorially.

Emmett held out his hand to Lauren. "I'm Emmett Cullen," he said pleasantly, "You wear Bloch Pointe Shoes, right?"

Lauren nodded bemusedly, not taking his hand.

Emmett nodded back seriously, uncaringly dropping his hand back to his waist. "Yes, apparently there's been a duff batch made back at the factory in Russia. My father – he's the headmaster, you know – told me I need to come and check yours, to make sure your not at risk off a snapping shank, if you know what I mean?"

"Okay..." she said.

"Great!" Emmett knelt down and quickly took her left foot, almost knocking her off balance. "Hmm...hmhm..." he turned her shoe left and right, then held the toe box in two massive hands.

Jasper cleared his throat loudly, "Emmett..."

Emmett gave him an irritated look and stopped his examination, then asked Lauren, "You do have a performance pair of pointe shoes, right?"

Lauren nodded. Performance pairs...God, I wished I'd reserved a pair, but it seemed like something only the professionals did.

"Splendid!" Emmett exclaimed, his loud voice booming around the room. He continued to turn her foot this was and that. "Well," he said eventually, standing back up. "They seem to be absolutely fine, Miss Mallory." He shook her hand again. "Charming to meet you. And good luck all of you for the review!" He waved jubilantly and bounded out of the room. What on Earth?

By the piano, Peter's intelligent mind was ticking, and he frowned. "Mister Hale I don't believe Bloch shoes _are _factory made..." Jasper just grinned at him. "Don't worry, my friend; it was a bit of a..." Jasper lifted an eyebrow in thought, then looked at Lauren with the most mischievous smile. "Sticky situation."

"Oh my God!" Cried Lauren. We all turned to look.

I covered my mouth to stop from laughing. The entire toe box of her shoe was covered in bright red bubblegum. Alice must have told them...

I looked back to the front, but Jasper had fled. I could hear his and Emmett's laughter, though, echoing down the corridor.

_"What the __hell?"_ Lauren exclaimed, "My freaking _pointe shoe!"

* * *

_

Emmett and I had an argument about his little stunt...I couldn't resist, though...

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	18. Chapter 18

One Fifty One. I am tired.

:D

I bit the top off my ink pen last night and got ink all over my teeth...'twas really stupid, but I wasn't paying attention...

Anyway, moving on my stupidity...

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_Concerning Hobbits - Lord of the Rings Soundtrack_ Why, Amberdeen? Because I love it :D

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Lauren yanked off her pointe shoe with everyone watching. Her face was bright red, at breaking point again. Almost all of the class was laughing. Even Peter had a covert smile on his face. I almost felt sympathetic – between Edward and Emmett, Lauren had had a pretty hard class – but I couldn't be a saint; she hadn't cared when it had been me. She spun around to face me, her eyes venomous.

"You're gonna pay for going and crying to the seniors," she spat. Her eyes roved around my class, who tried to stifle their giggles. "Shut up!" She snapped, and stormed out the door, her gum-covered pointe shoe swinging dangerously from the ribbons. Jessica and Megan hurried out after her.

"That man is a _legend," _Eliza said, shaking her head in disbelief. She glanced at me. "Were you in on that?" She sounded curious, not accusing.

"Nope...though it seems like the sort of thing Emmett might do..."

"Oh my _god, _Bella!" squealed Violet, "You're so lucky being on first name basis with _Emmett Cullen! _And I bet you are with Tanya Denali, too! And she's _famous!" _She grabbed my hands and jumped up and down excitedly. "And they did all this for you!"

Eliza and I exchanged glances. "Lauren's pissed," she said with a grin as we sat down. "Though...it might not have been the best idea to ruffle her feathers just before the review."

"Aw, come on Eliza!" said Violet. "Edward's already ruffled her to oblivion. God, he was terrifying."

Eliza nodded, "He had a very good point, though, for all of us."

Violet sobered, her eyes turning regretful as she picked at the knot of her pointe shoe.

I glanced at my phone. "I better get going," I said, pulling the drawstrings of my shoe bag and standing up. "I have to get to that ballet store before it shuts."

"In Wrystone?" Asked Eliza. "What fo – oh, right; shoes."

I nodded, not quite able to keep my irritation at Lauren off my face.

"Wait a sec," said Violet. She began rummaging around in her dance bag. Eventually she pulled out a crumpled ten dollar note and held it out to me.

I frowned, "Violet I can't..."

She shook her head, "Edward was right – we totally had no authority to do that to you. And now you have to get a whole new pair of pointe shoes which you shouldn't have to pay for. Ten bucks won't pay for all of it, but I'll try getting Abigail and Selene to chip in."

"Ryan, too," said Eliza distastefully. Clearly she hadn't known that Ryan had been involved either.

Violet gave me a shy smile, "We'll pay you back."

I hesitantly took the note. "Thank you, Vi'," I said. Maybe Violet could be mislead, or make judgements without thinking them through, but what person hasn't gone through a stage like that?

She grinned, once again her normal self.

"See you later!"

The bus stop was about a hundred yards down the road from _Force, _I found out fromMrs Cope, the frenzied receptionist who I'd discovered behind a massive stack of fabric receipts and post-it notes. She'd handed me a bus timetable and a map, written that I was 'out of house', and had then gone straight back to the flashing buttons of the phone set.

I looked at the timetable as I headed up the stairs. The buses were infrequent – of course they were; as far as I knew, _Force _was in a pretty secluded area, and most students probably didn't bother going in that often. If I wanted to see Angela as well as get my pointe shoes, I'd have to catch the one that left in ten minutes and miss lunch.

Angela...I hadn't mentioned it to Eliza and Violet – I wasn't sure if Madame Esme had told them and I didn't want to hurt their feelings – but I was planning to see her as well. The last I'd heard about her was from Edward on Wednesday, and a tiny snippet from Madame Esme. How would she be? Would she know more about how long it would take her to heal?

I pushed the questions from my mind. They would be answered soon enough. The dorm room was empty by the time I got there. I was glad; another confrontation with Lauren was not on my agenda. I opened up my trunk. The stench of horrible wet, stained clothes hit me. I swallowed. Those idiots...

I held my breath and reached a hand in. My trunk had been somewhat ordered before, but now my books and trinkets and clothes were all mixed together. My fingers wove through, trying to feel for my wallet. I reached something sticky. Oh God...what _was _that? Steeling myself, I went down further.

Typical. It would have to be right at the bottom. Eventually I felt the smooth leather of my wallet. I pulled it out. The sticky stuff dripped off the bottom. It looked like porridge..._Jessica's oatmeal detox_...I shut the trunk with my elbow and hurried to the bathrooms. I ran my wallet and my arm under the tap, feeling nauseated. Edward's words had put them so clearly in the wrong that I found myself even more repulsed than this morning. How could they have done this when they didn't even know whether I'd 'ruined the review' or not? Why hadn't anyone _thought _about why they were doing it?

I took a deep breath. Maybe Edward had changed that. I hadn't any idea what the rest of my class now thought of me, first when they saw my dance and then with Edward. I guessed only time would tell.

I turned off tap, only just realizing that running water on my credit card and banknotes might not have been the greatest idea.

Then I got changed into the clothes Alice had given me. Black tights, a short blue and black tartan skirt and a long sleeved dark blue v-neck. She'd even managed to find me a pair of knee high boots and dark blue leg warmers. I smiled. Leg warmers seemed to be essential to Alice. Last of all, she'd included a black jacket. I looked out at the ominous grey clouds that now shrouded the sky. She had foresight...

I pulled off my hairnet and hair ties and then pulled my hair back up into an ordinary ponytail. I slipped my wallet into my pocket and rushed out, knowing I had wasted way too much time.

By the time I got out the double doors and down the steps, it was raining. I walked smartly down the long, winding driveway. I breathed in the fresh, albeit freezing air. I hadn't been outside since Angela had given me a tour of the grounds. God, that had been _ages _ago. It was a wonder I wasn't suffering from Vitamin D deficiency. Not that I'd be getting much right now.

I finally reached the massive cast iron gates. There was one dancer on each gate, one a danseur and one a danseuse. They were both in arabesque, their hands reaching for each other...a green and yellow bus suddenly whizzed past.

"Shit!" I cursed, and shoved out of the small pedestrian gate. I sprinted down the muddy road, seeing Britney Spear's new perfume advert go off into the distance. "Hey!" I yelled, waving my arms through the rain. The bus suddenly swerved onto the side, just a few metres from the bus stop. I hurried up to it, breathing hard as the doors hissed open.

The bus driver looked at me grumpily as I fumbled around for some money. I finally handed him some coins. He raised a displeased eyebrow. What? Oh no...there was a glob of oatmeal stuck to one of the quarters. "Sorry," I said, and replaced it with another...the bus driver grunted, and I quickly moved in. The few other people on the bus gave me irritated looks.

I shuffled into one of the back seats, staring out the window at the lashing rain. A tiny smile came to my lips. It felt so normal – aside from the dressy clothes and oatmeal – to run for the bus. Before I'd gotten my Honda a few months ago, I had spent many mornings running after the school bus, then guiltily walking back into the house and asking Charlie for a lift, or, if I did manage to stop it, clambering on to the amused looks of other students. It was funny to think that only a few months ago, ballet had just been a cherished hobby.

At Forks High, ballet hadn't had that much of an effect...I'd still gotten good grades – having very little social life tended to leave plenty of time after ballet class – and seeing as no one cared much about classical dancing, they didn't talk to me about it, if they even knew I danced. It was only when I'd arrived at Mrs Harcourt's house that I really immersed myself in ballet. So long as I'd had my five classes a week fix, I'd been free to think of other things.

But now...I could hardly fathom thinking about biology or trig or what the latest movie release was...the past weeks had brought me such a whirlwind of emotion that I was uncertain about everything...it was reassuring to think of the Bella of Forks. She'd been sure of herself. She'd known exactly what people were thinking and she knew exactly what she wanted; top grades, a decent evening job somewhere close to her house, a new laptop...and she'd known how to get these things.

But me? Me now? I didn't have those exact goals...I was living in the moment, feeling the joy of ballet...what did I want? I wanted to prove my class wrong, I wanted to be able to deserve the trust Madame Cox had given me...and then there was Edward...I wanted to somehow satiate my curiosity of him...to feel that _connection _just once...

The jolting stop of the bus pulled me out of my thoughts.

I quickly got out, carefully avoiding the flooded gutter. I hurried under the awning of a shop, avoiding the pouring rain, and walked along. Wrystone, it seemed, was nothing more than a few shops and a tiny park, maybe two blocks on either side of houses...it was kind of cute. The ballet shop Alice had told me about was obvious. It had a hanging sign, like the ones outside old English taverns, with a painting of ballet shoes, and the words:

_T Maier Gim & Sons_

_Dance Emporium_

I went in, a bell tinkling with the door. The shop was warm and well lit. Surprisingly, there were a few people milling around, even though Wrystone seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Of course, maybe people made long journeys to get here – it would certainly be worth it. It was like Alice's room...just much more orderly and much, much bigger. Practise tutus hung upside down from the ceiling, and clothing racks full of black leotards were dotted about, along with great barrels of packeted tights. A mother was trying to pull two little girls away from the mannequin of a sparkling fairy tutu.

But there weren't just ballet things. On short shelves were rows and rows of tap shoes and tango shoes and jazz shoes and character shoes and dance sneakers. Glittering ballroom costumes and unitards filled more clothing racks. On another shelf was a collection of dance class cds, and books, where a rather studious looking man was flicking through a book of jazz terminology. Clear filing cabinets held sheet music.

There was another stand with hooks, on which hung every colour of bandeaus and crocheted hairnets and bobby pins known to man. And at the very back of the shop was the largest collection of pointe shoes I'd ever seen. The entire back wall was concealed by floor to ceiling shelves, each one stacked high with pointe shoes.

"Freed?" Came a voice from behind me. I spun around.

A man with greying red hair and a goatee beaming down at me. He had old, circular glasses, and he wore a grey and red pinstriped waistcoat over his shirt. A badge pinned to it said:

_D Maier Gim, owner_

I frowned, confused for a second, then realised what he meant. "Oh, yes, Freed," I said.

"Mmm," he nodded, pensive. "I thought as much. I can always tell, you see. You have the calves for it, you see...and I am guessing your feet are not as wide as some...and you're from _Force de la __Beauté?"_

I smiled, narrowing my eyes, "How did you know?"

"Ah!" He clapped his hands together, "your eyes, my dear, your eyes!" He chuckled at my bemusement, "You look terribly tired, you know. Now, whilst I'd love to flog you some stage make up which you Forcians seem to slather on by the gallon, I am supposing you're in need of something specific?"

I nodded, "Pointe shoes, actually."

"Splendid!" He clapped his hands again and began leading me through the store. I marvelled at a beautiful collection of tiaras sitting in a glass case we passed. "Now, I'm sure your past the studio brand, yes?"

"Yes," I said. I'd only been en pointe for three years, and I knew very little about the different brands of shoes. I did know that Freed of London had studio shoes, for beginner pointe dancers, and then the classic range for the more experience dancers. "Classical Pro," I told him.

"Aha," he said, "A nice design, you know. Not for the fainthearted, mind. They don't have a beginner's support." We reached the back shelves. A two metre barre was secured to the ground right by it, and a bench. Mister Maier climbed up one of the shelf ladders with surprising agility. I sat down on the bench and began taking my leg warmers and boots off. "I'm curious, Miss..."

"Swan," I supplied.

"Miss Swan, as to why you need another pair of pointe shoes so soon. You see, Maier's has been delivering three pairs of pointe shoes for every Forcian danseuse every month since Marcus Vigernon signed a contract with us all those years ago. You must be a very fierce dancer to warrant a fourth pair in such a short amount of time?"

"I arrived late," I told him as he sifted through the many packets of pointe shoes. "My old pointes were a few months old..."

"They died, then?" He spoke as if they were relatives, not shoes that had died.

"Yes," I said. If he liked pointe shoes that much, then getting into what actually happened didn't seem like a good idea...

"Ah, the time we cobblers take to make them," he grumbled fondly, "Only to have you stamp them out in a single performance. Now, what are your measurements?"

I told him the measurements I had memorized after my first fitting. He eventually came down with a pair, and I slipped them on. Without any ribbons or elastic, they were loose, but using the barre I was able to follow Mister Maier's instructions. "Every pair is slightly different, Miss Swan," he said, kneeling down to check the shank length. "And so every shoe must be tested. All these silly people buying pointes on the internet...I require all you Forcians to come a get a fitting at least once a year, you know. And now climb up to pointe..."

One foot at a time, I stood up on my platforms. I gritted my teeth against the added pressure. Until the toe box had moulded to my own toes, it was going to hurt more than usual. The fact that I wasn't wearing gel pads probably made it worse. "A nice arc there, Miss Swan," He said approvingly. He gently squeezed the toe box.

The image of Emmett twisting Lauren's foot this way and that came into my head, and I tried not to giggle. How Lauren possibly thought that Emmett had _any _knowledge of pointe shoes I did not know.

"Well, these seem to fit you perfectly well, Miss Swan." Mister Maier stood back up, and I went back down to flat. "I take it you'll be needing ribbons and such?"

"Yes please," I said, putting my boots back on.

He grabbed the necessary packets and took them to the counter. As he put my new shoes back in their plastic and tallied up the total, I looked at the beautiful jewellery boxes next to the till. Each one had a different ballerina on it. One was wearing a deep blue tutu, her arms in an oval above her head, her leg out behind her in an attitude...I ran a gentle fingertip down her figure. That would be me tomorrow...tomorrow...

"Beautiful little pieces those are, aren't they?" said Mister Maier, taping the top of a large paper bag.

I nodded, still staring at the tiny dancer. Tomorrow...I gulped and snapped out of it, reaching into my wallet for my credit card. I handed it to him. I mustn't think about it...

"Thank you," I said as he gave me the package.

"It was good to meet you, Miss Swan," he gave a little bow.

I smiled, "And you."

I left the warm store, my heart thudding. I stopped as soon as I was out of sight of the window, clutching the paper bag to my chest. _Bella, you have to calm down! You can't think like this...breathe in, out, in...tomorrow is going to be fine...fine, Bella, fine..._I shut my eyes for a second. I would block out all those thoughts. I would worry later...I began walking again, digging the map out of my pocket. Mrs Cope had circled the next bus stop I'd have to go to to get to the hospital.

I got there with ten minutes to spare, and ducked into a nearby cafe to get a takeaway latte. I didn't trust myself to do nothing. I could hardly have a nervous breakdown in a coffee shop. I got out just in time for the bus, and managed to pay with_out _any oatmeal. The hot, creamy coffee managed to calm me the rest of the way.

Hornswell was a much larger town, similar to the size of Forks. It had none of the finesse of _Force _or the cute charm of Wrystone. The hospital, Hornswell Community Hospital, was an ugly modern building, eight storeys high. I hopped out of the bus, my coffee finished, my nerves calm, and my caffeine-boosted excitement buzzing. I was finally going to see Angela! I hurried through the automatic doors, out of the rain.

Immediately I was enveloped in the white cleanliness and quiet. Doctors and nurses walked about purposefully, walking past patients as if they didn't exist. If any of the few people in the main reception spoke, it was in hushed tones. It was impersonal...but, for just a few minutes, I wasn't immersed in people who had it in for me, or who I was painstakingly aware of...I could relax.

The receptionist registered me and told me where to go. The orthopaedics ward was on the fourth floor. I took the elevator up. It was a great relief from _Force's _endless stairs. The fourth floor was almost identical to the bottom, and I navigated my way through a maze of shiny white corridors to a small waiting room. The second receptionist gave me her room number. I was walking again, down to the end of a long corridor. Angela's was the second to last on the right. I knocked gently, though my excitement was mounting.

"Yeah?" Angela!

I pushed open the door. "Oh my God, Bella!" Angela sat propped up with pillows on a bed in the centre of the small, generic hospital room. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and there were bags under her eyes, but she grinned widely.

I quickly shut the door behind me, trying not to squeal. "How are you?" I asked as she pulled me into a one sided hug. I pulled back quickly, not wanting to hurt her. Her left arm was in a cuff and collar. Her collarbone, just visible behind her hospital shirt, was still swollen.

But she was still smiling, "I'll do. How are _you?" _She grabbed my hand,"You have to tell me everything that's happened since I left!"

"But you're the patient..." I began, but she shook her head.

"My days have consisted of painkillers, get well cards and hospital food – but tell me how the review preparations are going! What are the costumes like? How's your solo? Have you spied on Master Rodriguez's class yet? Get me up to date!"

I laughed, "Fine, fine..."

I described the costumes to her, right down to the smallest detail, and how I'd been absolutely terrible dancing in my tutu, and how Master Rodriguez's class was apparently doing a pas de deux in the middle of their piece. I told her how Madame Cox had asked Mister Woolston to alter the ending to make the music more dramatic, and how Mike had almost grande jeted right into Abigail...

...but that was all I could say without telling her about everything that had happened with Lauren. I didn't want to worry her. I could see how tired she was – she couldn't sit right up for long, and sometimes the slightest wrong movement made her gasp – but she knew something was up when I accidently told her about Mister Maier, the extremely enthusiastic pointe shoe seller.

"Wait – you're planning to break in a new pair of pointe shoes by _tomorrow?" _She scrunched her face, "Why?"

I sighed, tracing the seam of my tights along my foot and back. "Lauren and I had a bit of a fall out..."

She grinned, "Because you guys were best buds before."

"Totally...well, you know how me and Peter were doing the lift as well?" She nodded. "I didn't realize it at the time, but I bashed my head, and so I got a concussion," I paused, looking at her.

She gave me a pained look, "I _asked _if you were okay. You should have told me – I've been wondering about that."

I shrugged, "You were looking _much _words. I didn't feel it at the time anyway..." She'd given me a disapproving look, but nodded for me to go on.

I told her it all, from the awful tech class the next day to Edward taking me to Doctor Hill. She laughed when I told her about the posters, but I'd been vague about Edward and mine's argument. I just said that Edward had been patronizing, and that I'd gone and messed around with the choreography to prove him wrong. She scowled when I told her about Lauren and everyone turning against me. I wanted to dim it down a little, but I found myself pouring it all out. Telling her all my frustrations, my sadness...when I'd gotten to this morning, and my trunk, Angela, who I always thought saw the best in people and understood them, had scowled, muttering how "Lauren and her posse should be thrown out onto the street."

I told her what Edward had said, though I couldn't say it quite so elegantly, and then what Emmett had done.

She laughed until the jiggling of her shoulder got too much. "I should send him a thank you card."

We sat in silence for a minute or two, Angela digesting all that I'd told her.

"How's Ben?" She asked.

"Guilty."

She shook her head sadly, "Doesn't he know it wasn't his fault?"

"I tried to tell him," I said. "He danced with Eliza today, when Edward put Ryan with Tyler, and I think Edward talked to him..." I sighed. "He doesn't think you'll forgive him...and we haven't been told much about your condition."

Angela looked down unhappily, "The surgery went fine...I mean, it was scary beforehand, but they've managed to get it all back in the right place...it's just...Bella..." She looked at me, her eyes filled with tears, "They're saying it might never join back together," she swallowed, "I can't dance with a messed up shoulder, Bella...I might not be able to _dance."_

"Oh Ange'..." I put my arms carefully around her. Not being able to dance...never dancing again...she cried into my shoulder. I couldn't think of any words of comfort...only that unsure voice saying it wasn't for certain, and that wouldn't help, I knew.

We stayed like that for a long time. I couldn't be sure, but I sensed I was the first person really there to empathize with her. I hadn't heard that Angela's parents had had anything to do with dancing, and it had been early days when Master Carlisle and Mistress Esme had been there, and they were the heads of the school...no, she'd bottled it up ever since she'd been here.

"Edward was here earlier," she said eventually, wiping her cheek with the back of her good hand.

I pulled back. "Really?"

She nodded, "I didn't tell him, about the – " she took a breath , "The possibilities...but he got injured as well when he was in first year. He injured his leg, and had to take two months off."

"And yet he's still at the top..." I murmured.

"I know, right? He said that he was really depressed at the beginning, but he said that he realized that just because he couldn't do ballet didn't mean he couldn't still learn it," Angela seemed to perk up a little. "He said that I should watch as much ballet as possible – see how the professionals do it...and he said that he used to torture himself through hours of theory and choreography_. _He said it gave him time to think about _why _he did ballet,"she gave a small smile, "I know it's not...smart to – to get my hopes up...but I want to do those things. I should make the most of all this, you know?"

"I understand," I said.

There was an attentive knock on the door, and a nurse came in. "Visiting times are over, Hun," she gave me a polite smile, and shut the door again.

"Right, I'll tell you all about the review as soon as I can."

She smiled, "Could you tell Ben I said 'hi'? And for him not to worry."

I pulled my boots back on. "Of course," I gave Angela one last hug. "And don't you worry about anything, 'kay?"

She grinned, "Just so long as you have Emmett and Edward to ward off Lauren...Bella?"

I turned at the door.

"Thanks," she said.

I smiled and left.

My mind was full of thoughts as I went back down the way I came. Poor Angela. I could only imagine the idea of never being able to dance...but it was terrible. But Angela was strong and young – that might give her more of a chance?

I went out into the freezing cold. The rain lashed at me, seeping right through my jacket. I pulled the collar up around my neck, running along the pavement to the bus sign.

And what about Edward? I had some sort of morose envy in me, that Edward had told Angela so much, and yet I knew so little about him, apart from what I gleaned off others. But that wasn't fair to Angela...and now _did _know something else; Edward...he was compassionate...or, at least he seemed to be...

I looked at the timetable, trying to read past the rain. Twenty minutes. Great. I pulled my jacket even tighter, trying to shelter as much of my face as possible. Through my thin tights, my legs were frozen.

I had no idea what it was like to be injured...I was glad Edward had been. Angela at least had something to think about now...and even if she couldn't dance, there were so many positions in ballet companies and schools...

"Bella!" I spun around, recognizing the voice in an instant. A sleek black car had pulled into the bus stop. Edward leaned out of the window, rain already beginning to drip from his bronze hair. His eyes were squinted so he could see through the downpour. "Get in, I'll give you a ride!"

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Oooooo...

Two in the morning..._I need sleep_

**Please review, tell me what you think!**


	19. Chapter 19

Okay. One o'clock. Not smart.

So, I'll keep it as short as can be.

If you read my A/N, you'll know that things have been a little stressful lately, so this update is somewhat overdue...

**Thank you to everyone who flicked me a message during this time...and for all those who reviewed the story!**

**It's strange how people who you've never met can have such a profound effect on first your writing and now you yourself.**

**Your support...it was just amazing.**

**Thank you**

Alright, now I'm going to leave it all behind for the time being because I'm in a bit of an oasis at present, and I wish not to ruin it.

This chapter has been difficult. The sum of my outtakes is 5 406 words.

The wordcount of my final chapter is...4 163 words.

Indeed, I've been very busy, which made things more difficult, but anywho. 'tis WRITTEN! HUZZAH!

Thanks to DMG (probably the only male reading this?) for your car advice. 'twas most instructive...hehe even though I didn't go with it in the end...

Okay, very tired...I want to say more, but I know you guys want to read, so here...

**Please Review!**

**And Enjoy!**

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The rain thrashed at the both of us. My mind, it seemed, didn't want to think about what I was doing. All I knew was that my heart was hammering, and that if I stayed out here much longer I'd get frostbite. I hurried through the downpour to the car door, which he pushed open. It was then that I hesitated, looking over the top of the car at the waving trees. Was this a smart thing to do? Get in Edward Masen's car for the whole forty minute journey back to _Force? _But I could already feel the warm air blasting from the heaters. Thunder growled overhead. My decision was made for me.

I slid into the black leather seat, shutting my door with a very audible clunk. The rain was muffled. We were alone. This had been a bad idea...why hadn't he just ignored me as usual? He cleared his throat and began pulling out of the bus stop. Was he realizing it as well? Was he thinking he _should _have just driven on? But that thought hurt too...

I glanced at him. His hands were a little tight on the steering wheel, his eyes concentrated on the road. He was dressed in jeans and a dark green sweater. I'd seen him in normal clothes before...but this was his car...his own property... "Thank you," I said quietly.

"It's no inconvenience," his voice was smooth...but final. His eyes stayed the same...

I resigned myself to a long, silent car journey back. I shivered and folded my arms close to my chest, trying to conserve some of the heat my wet clothes were stealing from me. My teeth chattered, and I ground them together, trying to focus on the shops we were shooting past. I needed to stop thinking...I was making this situation more awkward just by my thoughts.

Edward seemed to have his walls up...if I put mine up then maybe I could get through this...but my curiosity, my questions...they would not be silenced when the key to them sat right across from me. I shivered again, gritting my teeth harder.

He was honourable...he wouldn't leave me standing out in the rain...but that was all...it was just like in the dining hall. He didn't want any part of me. What he did, he did because he had no choice...

I tried to make my breathing quieter, but it shook with cold as I tried to breathe in. We weren't even out of Hornswell yet...this was going to last a lifetime...God, what I would have given to hear his thoughts...who _was _he? How could I feel I knew someone deeper than anyone else and yet not have any knowledge of him at all? I clamped my arms tighter across my chest.

We'd stopped at a set of traffic lights. I heard a seatbelt unclip. Edward was pulling off his sweater, revealing a fitted black t-shirt underneath. He held the sweater out to me.

I stared at it, "I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows, finally looking at me. "You're frozen, Bella," his eyes...they were the greenest of greens. And they smouldered.

I tentatively took the sweater. It was already warm. I gulped hard and peeled off Alice's sodden jacket. My skin was goosebumped all over. Quickly, I pulled his sweater on. Edward's scent surrounded me. Oh, I remembered this...sweet God...Edward...this same scent swirling as he'd brought me up his chest...as he'd lifted me high...I pushed my head and arms through, but it didn't leave me, the scent.

"Thank you," I said, not able to resist huddling into it. My hands hid within the long sleeves, revelling in the warmth.

Edward glanced at me. His eyes flashed in surprise, and he quickly looked away again. "You should take better care of yourself," he murmured, speeding up as we left Hornswell.

Holding on to what little defiance I seemed to have left, I said, "I do."

He glanced at me – just one, concerned, and sceptical, look. "If I hadn't picked you up then you would've stood out there in the freezing cold until the bus came?"

"Of course," I said indignantly. "I don't have a hundred thousand dollar Mercedes at my disposal."

"And if I hadn't found out about Lauren from Jessica, you would've kept silent about it?"

"I had it under control..."

"And you would have kept dancing with a concussion if I hadn't worked it out?"

"I – "

"And if I hadn't seen the pain on your face, you would have kept dancing with – "

I suddenly snapped. "I would've kept thinking that pas de deux was the worst, not the most beautiful part of ballet!" I locked my lips together. Shit. I was a stupid, _stupid _girl...

Edward was quiet, emotions playing on his face which I couldn't understand. Pain, irritation, weariness...but they all faded quickly, and his face turned smooth and passive. He'd shut himself off again. Only his eyes gave away that he was thinking something. But they did not tell me what.

All to be heard was the gentle hum of the heaters and the muffled rain on the windscreen. It was unbearable. There was so much I wanted to talk about...but Edward wanted silence.

Silence was easier.

A ringtone began playing. Edward pulled a shiny, probably top of the line, iPhone out of his pocket. "Hello?" His voice was smooth, as if he wasn't sitting in the most tensioned car in the world. "Yeah, where? Right, see you in ten...bye." He slid the phone back in his pocket and kept driving. "Tanya's stuck in Wrystone," he said, staring uninterestedly at the road. "We're going to have to pick her up."

"Right."

I stared out the window. Tanya. Any chance of talking to Edward was now entirely crushed, although I should've known that they were crushed long before I even got in the car.

Soon we were entering Wrystone. Edward pulled up outside a cafe. It was much flashier than the one I'd been in. The Dance Emporium was across the road. It's warm lighting and flaking paint was looking very appealing right now. Conversation had been easy with Mister Maier Gim. But, then, I didn't have some ridiculous expectation with Mister Maier. Edward, however...

Inside the car, he'd taken his phone out again, and was glaring at the screen. "Tanya's decided she wants me to have coffee with her..." he sighed and looked at me tiredly,

"You can come if you want." Then he got out, slamming the door.

The car now was truly silent. Oh God...I took my seatbelt off and opened the door. The rain was falling heavily. I couldn't stay in here. I had to try and repair the damage I'd just done...

I got out, hurrying under the awning of the cafe. The whipping wind brought me back to some form of reality. _Just breathe...just breathe..._God _I am stupid..._

I went into the cafe. Edward stood at the counter. I tried to unclench my fist, tried to swallow.

I stood beside him, careful not to brush him. He didn't look. "Trim latte, please," I said to the waitress. I grabbed my wallet out of my pocket, but Edward was already handing her a shiny silver credit card. "I can pay myself," I muttered to him as the waitress pressed some buttons on the till.

"My treat," Treat...he made it sound like a punishment.

"Eddie!" Tanya's call came from a table by the window. She was dressed in jeans, high heeled boots and a gold tight-fitting top, with sleeves which wound down to her knuckles. Her hair was done up in a bun, as usual. She seemed like the height of elegance...but then I saw who sat opposite her.

Irina Denali.

The name everyone knew.

She had straight, silvery blonde hair which was plaited into a high, regal bun. She wore a silver off-the-shoulder top which hung from her arms with just a few delicate threads at her elbows and wrists. But it wasn't her clothes. It was her posture. It was like she was born to play Aurora and she knew it. She presided over the entire coffee shop, her shoulders pushed back, her chin high, and her thin, impossibly long legs crossed over.

Tanya had finally noticed who Edward was with. She glared at me. "What the hell is she doing here?" Tanya demanded as Edward and I reached them.

"Tanya," chastised Irina Denali. She stood up, gracefully rising, and offered me a slender, delicate hand. "Forgive my sister. I'm Irina Denali."

"Bella Swan," I said, shaking it.

"Hmm, yes I've heard about you..." she gave me a glossy smile at my bemusement, then turned to Edward.

"Ah, Edward!" Though she was tall, she only came up to his chin. She went up on her tiptoes – or demipoint, she'd probably call it – and kissed him on either cheek. "It's been too long!"

Edward gave her a slight smile, then sat down next to Tanya, leaving me to sit next to the future principal dancer of the US Ballet...in my current state, I didn't trust myself to make the best impression.

"I thought your car broke down?" Edward was saying to Tanya.

She shrugged, giving him a smile which didn't quite equate to her sister's. "'rina gave me a lift here, but she's got a flight from Seattle and so I needed a lift back..." Edward didn't look happy, and so Tanya changed her battle plan, "Anyway! 'rina's got some _very _exciting news for us. I thought you'd want to hear it from her, Eddie."

Irina gave a high, tinkling laugh, "It _is _rather exciting, I must admit. Do you remember Alexei Lebedev?"

"The soloist?"

She nodded, "He's had to move back to Russia on short notice..." she giggled, holding manicured fingers to her lips, "Something about getting his old girlfriend pregnant. Anyway, the US Ballet's short a Spanish danseur in the Nutcracker, and I might just have suggested to Frank that he should choose you two. He wants to audition you."

"When?" Asked Edward. His voice was cool, but I saw the slight excitement. He exchanged a glance with Tanya, who smiled dazzlingly at him.

"Tomorrow," Irina answered. "In New York."

He frowned, "That's a five hour flight..."

If Tanya's smile was dazzling, Irina's was like a solar flare. "Don't worry, Frank's happy to make it a later audition. I've booked you guys an eight o'clock from SeaTac. You'll get into JFK about one thirty. That gives you time for to freshen up and maybe rehearse once or twice before you see him at three."

A waiter delivered us our coffees, but my mind was spinning too fast to register...Oh no...oh God no...that meant... "We'll miss the review," he said it more like an observation than a problem...

Irina shrugged, "I remember _Force _reviews. The two I went to before I got into the USB. They're not that great."

"Yeah," said Tanya, "There's some pretty crap dancing in there." Her eyes suddenly flicked to me. Mocking...teasing...something nudged at the side of my thoughts...

"We're up against Carlisle and Esme, Tanya," said Edward, stirring his flat white. "You've been going on about it for months."

Tanya rolled her eyes, "I haven't...besides, we know that everyone wants to see Emmett and Rose do it. It would have _way _more comic value."

Irina gave a high, tinkling laugh, "Father versus son _would_ be more interesting..."

I looked at Edward, trying to hide my expression behind my coffee cup. He still looked uncertain...maybe there was hope... "Isn't there another day we could do this on?"

Irina shook her head, "It was the only time Frank had available...besides, Edward, school life is _so _slow in comparison to a real dance company. We don't have time to gradually ease you guys in. If you get it – and you will – you'll be into rehearsals straight away. We go on tour in two weeks. We can't afford to waste any time."

"Don't they have anyone in the Corps who could move up?"

Tanya patted his arm, "Edward, you know that you're better than any of them..."

He shook his head, "That's not the question, Tanya; why isn't Frank Rebrevae putting up someone from the Corps? Someone who's already in the company..."

She tried to appeal again, "Edward – "

"This is the one hundredth anniversary of the Nutcracker," Irina butted in, "People want to see stars like the Denali sisters and Edward Masen. They don't want to see some unpolished corps members so damned excited about their promotion that they wet their tights before going on."

Edward looked away distastefully at her words, "I suppose I get your point. I don't like it, though."

Tanya grabbed his hand, "Edward this is a chance to get in early. If we do this, we'll skip the open auditions and we'll skip the years of being in the corps. We'll go straight to soloists!" She grabbed his other hand as well, looking earnestly at him, "Do you seriously want to be in the corps? To do exactly what everyone else does? To be restricted...there's no room to add your own flair in a corps. You won't be able to dance like you do here."

Irina nodded along, "True fact, Edward. I've been through it. It's no fun."

For a moment, I stepped out of the conversation. I looked at the bigger picture. I saw two girls coaxing Edward into doing something...using all his weaknesses...gently turning him in the direction they wanted him to go in...but why? Why were they so desperate? Maybe it was just for Tanya...but I sensed it was something else...

"And what about the review?" Edward was back to his – and my – key concern, though for different reasons. "We're in two of the dances, Tanya; maybe we can let Rose and Emmett use one of their old pas de deuxs, but we can't just leave our class. We'll screw up all the choreography."

I was distracted for second, almost snorting into my coffee. _Tell me about it..._

"They'll live, Edward," said Irina, "It's a school review – it's not like they're auditioning for one of the world's top ballet companies, is it?"

He raised his eyebrows, "This just shows me as an unreliable jerk, Irina. Not a reputation I want to have." He took another sip of his coffee.

Tanya glanced anxiously at Irina, who replied with a meaningful widening of the eyes.

Tanya stood up, "Sorry, gotta go to the ladies. I'll be back in a sec..."

As soon as she left, Irina sighed and reached into the silver Gucci handbag at her feet. She brought out a thick envelope and slid it across the table to him. "That's the plane tickets, the location details and the letter from Frank..." she leaned in lowering her tone. It was as if I didn't exist.

"Edward, please, do this for my sister...you've been with her since she came to _Force. _This has been your goal and hers since you found each other. I know she's not as..." she looked down at her hands, "As _capable _as me and Kate, but she's still good, and you know it. Take this chance – you don't know if it'll come again for a very long time. I get that you're all for equal opportunity, but this is something you deserve. God knows you guys work your asses off..." she shook her head, "Just do this – for my sister _and _for yourself."

Edward stared at her point blanc, narrowing his eyes slightly. Maybe he saw that something wasn't quite right...that they were too desperate...but then he slowly nodded. "Fine, Irina, but it won't be for you. It will be for Tanya's prospects alone. I know you only care about your family's reputation – don't spring that sisterly love crap on me."

She gave him a curt nod in return and they both leaned back.

Tanya returned shortly afterward.

"Edward's agreed," Irina told her, giving a smile which reminded me too much of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland...

"We'd better get going," said Edward, standing up. "It was good to see you, Irina."

Irina smiled again, "You too..." Tanya got her bag and we began to head for the door... "Oh, and Edward!" We turned back around, "Don't worry about the review," she glanced at me for a split second, "You won't be missing anything."

Edward returned it with a raised eyebrow, and pushed the door open.

What was she up to...?

It was as we walked out into the rain that my memory was violently yanked back to two nights ago. The studio. Rehearsing with Madame Cox. Tanya...Tanya's face at the door...coming in...Madame Cox telling her...telling her about my solo...

_That little..._Edward was helping her into the front seat. I quickly got into the back, strapping on my seatbelt. So that was why the artistic director, Frank Rebrevae, could only do it tomorrow...that was why Irina was posing it as a 'once in a lifetime opportunity'.

Tanya didn't want Edward to see me dance.

That was it...she knew...or at least, she thought, like me, that Edward had some connection to me. That if I were to remind Edward of how I danced...if he saw me...he might leave her.

"_Edward broke all his rules when he danced with you...you can imagine how Tanya might've been a little concerned." _

Alice's words...well apparently Tanya _was _concerned...and she was going to drag Edward away.

"Do you think we should wear the same costumes?" She was saying right now in the front, "I was thinking something less glitzy, seeing as it's not a performance..."

Oh God...no, they couldn't do this...it wasn't fair...

Perhaps because Tanya seemed to believe it as well, my resolve about Edward was stronger than ever. That he _had _felt that connection, that my dance which I'd worked so hard on could really show him...but that didn't help if he wasn't going to be there.

I had to tell him...but if I told him then he would guess how I felt...and if I was wrong about how _he _felt...I would be the world's biggest idiot...I'd be a laughing stock...and realistically, I probably _was _wrong, and so I _would _be a laughing stock...but if I didn't tell him then I had _no _chance...

My mind kept going round in the same circle for the entire drive back. Tanya chattered easily in the front. Edward said little...he just nodded from time to time, though not necessarily when Tanya had actually asked him something. His thoughts were elsewhere...I looked at his expression in the rear-view mirror. It was dark. Brooding. Dangerous...

When we finally drove through the gates – they opened automatically for him – I was on tenterhooks. My thoughts had gotten me nowhere. Somehow I would have to tell him...tell him that the review was important to Alice and the others...that they'd be disappointed...oh, but it was so damned obvious...he would see straight through his friends to me. And that would be it.

"Just drop us here, Eddie," said Tanya as we pulled up at the front door, "I don't want to get my clothes wet."

"Sure," he murmured, putting it into idle.

Tanya got out, hurriedly grabbing her handbag and slamming the door.

I didn't budge.

"Don't you want to get out?" Edward muttered, staring straight ahead.

"No," I told him, "I need a walk." Oh, I was going to make an idiot out of myself...

Edward drove back down the driveway, but then took a concealed right just before the gates. It was a small cobbled road which led through the trees to the car park. Angela had pointed it out to me on our tour.

"Thanks for the coffee," I said as Edward manoeuvred into a spot.

"You're welcome." He switched off the engine.

I quickly got out, hugging my bag to my chest. As if it would protect me...

By the time I'd shut the door, I realized Edward was already walking away, back down the drive. "Edward!" I called out. My nerves made me giddy. I ran to catch up with him, though he kept walking, his hands in his pockets. I got on level with him, two of my strides matching one of his.

"What, Bella?" He said harshly, not looking at me.

I stopped midstep. The words that were meant to come out – the ones about his friends, about the review – didn't. Instead, I found other words pouring from my mouth, "Why can't you talk to my nicely for once? Why have we never had a decent conversation? Why can't we talk to each other without storming out? Why don't you ever look at me and Peter in class? And in the dining hall? Even Rosalie manages to say hello!"

I hardly noticed I was shouting, "What the hell have I done to repulse you so much? Was I that bad a dancer? Why can't you just _talk _to me? Without chastising me or telling me I'm inexperienced? I'm your freaking age! You have no right to treat me like I know nothing! I've seen just as much of life as you! It's not all freaking pirouettes and auditions! Even if I can't dance like you, I'm still just as intelligent! Why can't we just..." I suddenly felt very tired. Sick of it... "Just talk..."

Edward stared at me calmly...too calmly...he just watched me as my breathing levelled out, and my balled fists loosened a little. He looked at me...and I knew it was over. "This is about what you said earlier, isn't it? About my dancing with you in class the other week?"

My heart turned to stone. I nodded, feeling more of a child than ever before.

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands behind him, "I can see why it's...upset you like this...I know you know I don't demonstrate, and I can see why that would give you reason for thinking something out of the ordinary, but it wasn't. I knew you had lost any confidence in Pas de Deux after what Mike did. I'm your teacher, Bella, it's my job to make sure you have confidence and skill in partnering. I was only repairing the damage that Mike had done. I had to show you what it could be like, and, judging by your words earlier, it worked...a little too well..."

The wind swirled my hair around my face. Every pain I had felt in my life was nothing compared to what I felt now. Nothing. Because now every single thought that I had had since that dance had to be remade. Because Edward hadn't felt anything. Because now I saw clearly; he was just my teacher. Everything he had done – reprimanding Lauren, helping me trust Mike, even now, rescuing me from the rain – it had all been because he was my teacher...

"Why did you stop coming to classes?" I asked him quietly.

His face was blank, "Several reasons. One I already told you the other day when you had your concussion – I danced with you as I would have with Tanya, simply because you seemed as mature and I was used to partnering like that. It reminded me why I didn't demonstrate – I've never been quick to lower standards, and dancing with people with little experience is frustrating...but at the same time, I know that teachers have to demonstrate in _some _way. Mistress Esme was always picking on some unlucky boy to demonstrate with her," he said with a slight smile. "I'm not cut out for teaching, Bella – not really." I swallowed, trying keep in control of my raging, despairing, weeping emotions.

He continued, "Then there was also all those people who suggested...other things about the two of us," my mind flashed back to the next morning, when those girls had asked me if Edward and I were an item. "I'm in the eye of a lot of dance companies at the moment, Bella – the US Ballet's not my only option...It's not that great to have rumours flying around about this sort of thing. I figured that staying away was the best course of action..."

I looked away, down at the stones and wet leaves I stood on. "But it wasn't," I whispered.

"No, it wasn't, and I will always regret what happened to Angela...and to you, Bella," I ignored his words, the pain in me just too great to bear. A few minutes ago, they would have given me an outrageous thrill. They didn't now. "It was stupid of me to stay away, but I didn't like what had happened..." He shook his head as if to clear it. "It doesn't matter, Bella. You just need to know, before I go away to New York tomorrow; that dance meant nothing."

He began walking again.

I didn't follow.

I stood in the wind and the rain, all my strings broken.

I didn't need some stupid solo. I didn't need him to be here tomorrow. It didn't matter...

Our dance...

It meant nothing.

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Is anyone else itching for an Epov? Or a large baseball bat to hit a certain danseur with? Or both?

**Please review! :D**


	20. Chapter 22

Hi...

Well, I seriously didn't expect to get this off tonight...

Yay! Finally! After months and months!

I'm writing again!

Okay, for a catch up of everything that has been happening just flick back a chapter and it'll explain what's been up.

Earthquakes...arg...

Oh, I'm so happy...

**Thanks to everyone who has flicked me messages with regards to the quake and to tell me they're still reading and, of course, to review!**

**You are, in short, amazing.**

Oh yeah, Tudor London is still being updated. Please do read! It's quite contrasting to Clair, but it still has smexy Edward in tights (just hose, this time)!

**I am so happy to bring you this update!**

**Please tell me what you think!**

**Review and...**

**ENJOY!**

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_Viva la Vida - Coldplay (some great ballet videos of it will be posted on my profile in the playlist section) Love this song!_

_The Meadow - Alexandre Desplat (for this first part here)_

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His hands slid around my waist…they seemed to fit perfectly…I went to pointe, tiptoeing delicately, my shoes tapping on the smooth wooden floor. His presence was right behind me, enticing me to be better than I'd ever dreamt of before. I stopped and went straight into a pirouette. His hands turned me softly. I didn't know how he could keep me so perfectly balanced. He just…knew.

And then he was lifting me…I rose high in exultation, feeling freer and more powerful than anyone else in existence at that moment. Anyone except him. Because for the first time ever I felt as though the feelings I had when I danced…the feelings right from when I'd danced to _Babbino _back in Forks…those feelings were being felt by another. My joy was being shared. I was not alone…and that made everything so much more beautiful…I floated and soared, feeling ethereal. Timeless. With him…I was above everything else. I was above fear and worry. We saw the world as if we were apart from it...

…and then he gently lowered me…and as we both descended back into this world…and as the worn satin of my shoes touch the wooden floor once again…I felt so many doors open. I had thought that the feeling I had when I danced was unsurpassable. Unmatchable. But now I learnt that there was something better. Something so powerful I could hardly contain myself…and as he held me, suspended in time, staring at me as if he had discovered a new world, it was as if he felt it too…

The cold and the wind and the rain suddenly rushed back to me, and I was going down the driveway, my teeth chattering, my frozen hands gripping my paper bag. Tears sparked at the back of my eyes. I swallowed them back, biting hard on the inside of my cheek. No. I would not cry. Not over something that had never existed.

Because that was it; he hadn't felt it.

The connection which I had invested so much emotion in did not exist. Edward was just being a good teacher. Edward was just trying to make sure I could do pas de deux. He'd understood my fears…but not in the depth I'd thought he had. I'd thought that there had been something…but I was just wrong…

I swallowed again, trying to suppress the lump growing in my throat.

I was wrong. I'd always thought I was smart and level-headed. I'd always thought that I saw things realistically. I'd trusted myself…and in doing so I'd deluded myself into believing that such a beautiful, poetic idea could be possible…I was an idiot…a total, utter _idiot…_

How could I have thought that such an unlikely idea was possible for me? How could I have thought that such things were anymore than fairytales?

I wondered how obvious I had been in my thoughts. When I'd stared at him when he'd helped me up the other day. Oh, he must have known. It must have been before that, though…he must have guessed soon after the dance. He must have felt awkward when he'd finally come back to classes. He must have known that I was thinking of him as something more than just a teacher; that was why he hadn't wanted to look at me. When? When had he worked it out? I thought back further. The dining hall with Tanya…but even then Edward had been distancing himself from me.

No, it had been much earlier. It had been as he'd lowered me back to the ground. As I'd stared at him, stared into his eyes like I'd discovered a whole new world. I realized now that I'd never registered what he'd really looked like. I'd been too caught up in my own emotions…and the deep green of his eyes. I guessed now that he'd been wondering what the hell I was doing. And then that he'd have understood what I was thinking. And that was when he'd broken my stare. That was when he'd stormed out. He was trying to prevent the idea from forming in my head. But it was too late.

_It doesn't matter anymore, _the intelligent part of my mind told me. _You need to get back and rehearse. You need to eat something. You need to get a good night's sleep…_

I knew I should have been listening to my logical side long ago, so I walked faster, briskly and steadily. My face felt like a mould, heavy and unmoveable. I tried to turn my mouth up, but it wouldn't move, so I stopped trying. I hoped that I would be able to act normally.

I reached the main driveway quickly, and went up it. _Force _appeared around the bend. There were lights in all the windows. Against the dark backdrop of the stormy sky, _Force _looked like a warm, homey place. I wasn't sure, though, after all this, that it was my home.

I eventually rounded the grass turning circle and went up the wet steps to the doors.

_Force de la Beauté_

_Ballet Academy_

I would remember that in the future; it was a ballet academy, and nothing more.

I opened one door and slipped through into the warm entrance hall. Students were still floating down to dinner, chattering excitedly about tomorrow, laughing and joking. It seemed surreal.

"Bella!"

Eliza and Violet were running down the stairs, excitement rampant on their faces. Violet reached me first, "We got some goss on Master Rodriguez's class!"

Her beaming eyes and bounciness caught me off guard, and I stared blankly at her, trying to think…_ballet, ballet, Master Rodriguez…but Edward, oh God Edward…but I'm such an idiot! How could I think…?_

"Bella?" Eliza waved her hand in front of my face, "You okay?"

I snapped out of it. "Yeah," I said…her freckled face seemed almost alien, but it was just normal. Normal. I had to act normal… "What gossip?" I couldn't make myself care. Too much had happened. The review hadn't been about beating Master Rodriguez's class. Not for me. It had been about showing Edward…reminding him of something that had not existed…

Violet quickly linked arms with me, seemingly oblivious to my stiff movements, and we began walking towards the dining hall.

Eliza linked onto my other arm, thought I could see she wasn't entirely convinced that I was alright.

"So Abigail's brother's a senior, right," said Violet, "And apparently he caught a glimpse of the music list. You'd never _guess _what song they're doing!"

"What?" I asked, trying to forge the link between this news and genuine excitement.

"Viva la Vida!" She squealed. "You know, Coldplay?"

"Yeah, 'course," I said, trying to get the tune into my head. All I could remember was lots of violins… "That's good news?"

"That's _seriously _good news," Eliza informed me. "Popular music might spin with the audience, but the judges aren't into it. And besides, Schmidt's more compatible with ballet than Coldplay." I realized we'd reached the front of the dinner queue. I stared at the potato salad and soufflé being served. My stomach twisted in revulsion.

The dinner lady handed me the plate. She saw my expression, "Pre-performance tradition, love; _Force _soufflé – best in the world."

I tried to smile back, as I would have any other day. I managed…just.

"Hey Bella!" Came a chiming voice from my left. Oh no. Alice.

Eliza and Violet stepped back a little as she bounced in front of me. She was in bright red skinny jeans, a tight white long sleeve top, a red waistcoat and striped red and white arm warmers reaching right up to her elbows. She was also grinning. _Edward hasn't told her…_I realized. It made me feel worse. How stupid had I been in the car – brooding over Edward's departure when I had only known him a few weeks? Alice had known him for _years. _He was in her class…I had no right to feel so bitter. The 'connection' between me and Edward hadn't been real, but it would be with him and Alice. And he was just going to up and leave…

Suddenly, I felt ridiculously awkward. She was Edward's friend first and foremost. What if he told her about my stupid delusion? Would she laugh at me? Or take pity and think 'she's such a first year'. Oh God…

"Bella…Earth to Prima Ballerina!" I blinked. Alice was waving her hand in my face.

"She's on a different planet tonight," said Eliza, smiling as I tried to look normal again.

Alice laughed, looking me up and down, then stopped, frowning. "Hey, isn't that Edward's sweater…?" My carefully moulded face fell. Alice was suddenly alert, realizing something was up. She stared at me, the question all over her face.

"Oh my God!" Violet exclaimed behind me, forgetting her shyness. She scurried in front of me. "_How _did you get that?" Eliza tugged at one sleeve, as if it was a lab sample, "I thought you went to get pointe shoes, Bella…"

I tried lamely to stop the scrutiny, but what could I say? "It's not – "

"Come on, spill!" I could see the stories building up in Violet's head. Some sort of great secret romance… "What'd you do?"

"He just picked me up…" I mumbled.

"And gave you his sweater?" Violet pointed out.

"That's boyfriend act number one, Bells!" Said Eliza.

I began floundering for an explanation. He'd given me his sweater because I was cold…but they wouldn't believe that.

"Why did he pick you up?" Violet was asking, "Did you do anything with him?"

"Did you plan it?" Asked Eliza. "Oh my God, Edward _Masen!"_

"Why didn't you tell us?" Violet demanded. "How long's this been going on for?"

No, no I couldn't have this conversation…no, this delusion needed to stop _now, _"Violet, please…"

"Oh come on, Bells! You've _got _to spill! You're a – "

"I told Edward to collect her," Alice cut in. What? Violet and Eliza turned silent, realizing Alice Brandon, senior _and _Edward Masen's close friend, was talking to them. "I realized she'd probably have frozen her butt off out there in the rain, and Edward was in town, so I told him to go get her." Had she? Was that why Edward had stopped? "He picked her up from the ballet store and of course I'd kinda ordered him to be nice." Obviously not, then; he'd picked me up from the hospital. Alice hadn't known I was going there…yet she was still covering for me.

"Oh," Eliza looked a little disheartened.

Violet, however, was frowning, probably trying to decide how reliable Alice's excuse was. "Still, he did give you his sweater. It's still boyfriend act number one. Why would he do that?"

Alice laughed lightly. She was a good actress – the others didn't notice the edge to her laugh, "'cause he knew that if he returned a frostbitten Bella I'd give him hell. The rise of feminism is no excuse for ungentlemanly manners, you know."

Violet looked heartbroken, "I guess so…" I almost felt sorry for her, having such a sensational gossip rush only to be let down.

Eliza nudged Violet, "C'mon, Vi'." They turned and headed for their table.

Oh God. Why were they going without me?

"Bella," said Alice, taking my unoccupied hand and leading me away from the queue to a darker spot by the wall. I quickly slid my plate onto a side table. If food had been unappetizing a few minutes ago, it now looked like it would kill me if I touched it. "What the heck is going on? When _did _you see Edward…" she studied my solemn face, "What's wrong?

I stared at her, feeling like the First Year that I was. "It's not really my news to tell…"

"Well…tell me when you saw him, at least?"

"I went to see Angela in the hospital. When I came out it was raining and Edward saw me and asked if I wanted a lift…" my throat was closing up. I didn't want to think back to my emotions. The excitement that had sparked in me when I'd seen his face. Even if I'd denied it at the time…it had been there, along with the whole damned delusion.

"And…?"

I shrugged, "I was cold and he gave me his sweater." I bit my lip and stared at the tapestry on the wall next to us. It was of a girl dancing on white clouds, cherubs reaching down to her from heaven. It was pretty…but I realized that the girl's face was simply a crisscross of threads. I wish I'd learnt that earlier; such dreams only existed in art. Art and fairytales. Just because you read about fairies and vampires doesn't make them real. They're entertaining…but they're nothing more. Fanciful ideas that you can connect with someone in the snap of a moment are as likely as dancing on clouds with cherubs.

Alice sighed, putting my hand in both of hers, "Bella, tell me. Maybe I can help…" she patted my knuckles frustratedly, "Did he say something dorkish? I mean…if he did, he's Edward and Edward's the king of saying stupid things…"

I just shook my head, unintentionally digging clutching her fingers. The tears began to spark. They created a blurring sheen across my eyes.

She saw them. "God, Bells…do you want to go somewhere else and talk about this? I guess you of all people would get how the dining hall's a public domain…we could go to the common room, or my room. _Force _soufflé's not _that _special…"

I shook my head again, "It's not…" my voice cracked. I sniffed. "It's nothing, Alice…I need to get back to Eliza and Violet…" but I realized I didn't sit with them anymore… "Um…just tonight. With the review tomorrow. I should probably sit with my class…it's kinda important…"

How blatant that lie was…but maybe Alice was nice to say it. She just nodded, "Okay…but if you need to talk, Bells, I'm here, 'kay?"

I gave a weak smile. Once Edward told her, would she still hold that invitation open? Once she knew that I was sulking, _crying _about Edward leaving when she was the one who'd known him for years. She was the one who was in his class. She was the one who had right to miss him. And she was the one who Edward ought to miss. Not me. I was no one. And when she found out, she would think that and she'd think I was a complete cry baby. I guessed that now was the best time for one last favour.

"Alice…is Edward there, at the table?" I asked, nervously looking at her as she glanced over my shoulder.

"Yeah," she said.

I swallowed and nodded. He was here. He was in the same room…I felt so sick…quickly, I grasped the hems of Edward's warm sweater and pulled it over my head. His scent washed over me. My subconscience, so used to the delusion, leapt at the memory of Edward, his body close to mine…

I thrust it into Alice's hands. I _had _to get rid of it.

"He'll probably want that back," I said shakily.

"Bella…" Alice said helplessly, holding the sweater limply in her hands, "Please, just tell me."

I swallowed, "You'll find out soon enough…" I bit hard on the inside of my cheek, "It's got nothing to do with me."

She gave a humourless breath of a laugh, "Pretty obviously it does."

I shook my head, "I need to go."

"Bella…"

I turned and walked away, every part of me tense. I couldn't cry. I _wouldn't _cry. It wasn't right to cry over something that did not exist. It wasn't…

I searched for the table I had sat at on my first night here. Oh, how I'd sat there with Edward's dance in my mind, playing again and again. His strong body turning the music into magic as he leapt and soared. Maybe the delusion had begun there and then. He had been so awe-inspiring…I gritted my teeth harder, and went over. It had more people than usual – most of my class was there. It was the night before the review. I guessed talking to enemy classes wasn't allowed.

"…there's no way they can pull it off," Abigail was saying excitedly. "It's like – " but then they saw me.

"Bella's back!" Violet squealed, not realising that almost everyone else was looking away awkwardly.

"Did your senior buddies kick you out, Bella?" Asked Megan from across the table. Jessica sat next to her, smirking. But the person who was always between them had disappeared. Where was Lauren?

"Oh grow up, Megan," Eliza muttered, then scraped her chair to the side, creating a space, "Grab a seat, Bells."

I tried to smile at her, thankful for their kindness even in front of the class, but I was still fighting with my tears. I grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and sat down between Eliza and Violet. Everyone was tense. Mike was staring at his plate. Ben was gazing at the rain beating on the windows across the room. The other boys seemed to be very interested in the wooden floor. Jessica seemed to be texting under the table. Megan was looking a little lost without Lauren's insults to feed off. Selene, Abigail and Jane were all glancing at each other as if they were nervous...

I'd almost forgotten what a state I was in with my class after this afternoon. I shouldn't have come to dinner. Sitting at Alice's table would have been...unimaginable...but sitting here wasn't much better.

Violet, who seemed to be the only one wanting conversation, shifted in her chair, clearing her throat, "Uh, guys...now's probably the time..."

"Yeah," said Abigail, nervously, "Probably is..." she looked at me, giving a weak smile. "We kind of have something to say..."

"We screwed up," Selene blurted out, "Like majorly."

"We were pretty big dickheads," said Ryan. Tyler gulped, looking like he wanted to disappear.

Violet turned to me, more serious than I'd ever seen her before, "What we're _meaning _to say is that we seriously shouldn't have treated you the way we did this morning, and even before that. We were real idiots."

"Well it _was _kind of Lauren's fault..." Jane muttered.

Abigail shook her head, "We always knew Lauren was a bitch. We were dorks for following her," she reached over and patted my hand, "We're really sorry, Bella."

I must have looked like a dimwit, sitting there with my mouth slightly open, not saying anything. This day had been so bizarre and confusing...for them to apologize to me now, on top of all my other emotions...

I swallowed. I knew I was near breaking point. The tears threatened me further, stinging at the corners of my eyes. No. No tears. No crying.

"And we're sorry it took us so long to realize," said Selene. "It shouldn't have taken Edward Masen to show us that."

Pain spiked in my chest. Edward. When he'd done that...when he'd told them...I'd thought he'd cared about me. I'd thought he'd done it for me. But that wasn't true. Edward was just being a good teacher. He'd taught them that what they were doing to me was wrong...and he'd done it so well...and now Abigail and everyone was apologizing to me.

"Anyways," Abigail said, startling me out of my thoughts. She was holding a pale pink envelope in her hand, waving it around, "Maybe you can see this as some sort of compensation." She handed it to me.

"Violet told us you had to go buy new pointe shoes today," Selene explained.

Already knowing what it was, I anxiously slid my fingernail under the seal and ripped it open. Inside was a wad of ten dollar bills, neatly tied up with a pink ribbon. I stared at it. "Guys, this wasn't necessary..."

But they were already shaking their heads, "We destroyed your property," said Abigail, "And we seriously had no right to. And it wasn't that much. We all pitched in."

"_Almost_ all of us," Violet corrected, looking towards Jessica and Megan. They were sitting ramrod straight, watching as their class slowly changed sides. Megan looked disbelieving. Jessica looked scared. Without Lauren I almost felt sorry for them.

"Thank you guys," I said, slipping the envelope into my paper bag. "And I'm sorry for changing all the choreography."

Eliza shrugged, "We know three dances now and Master Rodriguez's class only knows one."

"Why _did _you change your solo, though?" Asked Ted.

Because I wanted to prove to Edward Masen that I had the same connection with the music that he had. Because I wanted to remind him of the connection which I had been so sure existed... "I don't know..." I said, "I just didn't...click with it...and being injured at _Force _is kinda boring. I wanted to dance. There's only so much chemistry and calculus studying one can take."

"You still study ordinary subjects?" Ryan asked, surprised.

I nodded. Thank God I'd gotten away from my solo... "Yeah. Correspondence school is the only way my parents would let me stay here."

"Ugh," said Selene, "Aren't you super tired, though? How'd you fit it in?"

I bit my lip, "Well, I haven't exactly done much yet..."

Abigail laughed, "I know, right? Back when I was still at ordinary school I _never _had enough time to do homework. It was like, eat, sleep, dance."

"Yeah," said Selene, "Dancing's like a full time job. I used to write out all my combos during maths class..."

"_I _got decent grades," said Ryan proudly. "I won 'most likely to be a brain surgeon' award in grade six."

"Seriously?" Said Violet, giggling.

He blushed, "Yeah."

Vi wrinkled her nose, "I dunno if I'd trust you with my brain. You always have shaky hands in your port de bras."

He scoffed, "Sure I do."

"True fact," chimed Abigail. "All you boys have shaky hands. It's no wonder we're always getting dropped, huh?"

"_All _us boys?" Repeated Ted, challenge in his eyes.

"Mhm," she replied.

The board was set, and a passionate debate of boys versus girls began. I let myself be dragged into the cheerful banter. I said little, but I focussed carefully on the debate, not letting my mind stray.

"I mean, what do guys actually _do?" _Violet asked at one point, her voice rising in excitement.

"Ah come on!" Exclaimed Tyler, "Without us guys you girls would look like ducks, not swans." Tyler had relaxed a lot more as the conversation had gone on and Megan and Jessica had stalked off, muttered between one another.

"I don't recall _The Dying Swan _having a boy's part in it," Eliza pointed out, "And that's one of the most famed dances ever."

"Pfft," said another boy, "Who choreographed it, though?"

"Actually, Anna Pavlova _asked _Mikhail Fokine to choreograph it," Jane supplied, "She gave him the idea, went away and did more important stuff, then went and danced it like no _guy _could."

"Yeah, but it wasn't like she had to put any _thought _into it."

"What?" Eliza piped up, grinning. Her face was slightly redder than usual, "she put all the emotional integrity into it, all the amazing st – "

"Excuse me, students."

We all recognized the voice, and I turned sharply in my seat.

Master Carlisle stood there, his face business-like. He looked at me with blank, cool eyes. "Miss Swan, you need to come with me."

What? Oh God...oh God no...what had I done? What was wrong?

I nodded stiffly. My class was silent as I stood and turned to follow Master Carlisle out the double doors of the dining hall. I felt people's eyes on me. I absentmindedly wondered whether Edward was watching. He would think even worse of me after this...whatever this was. I just knew from the Headmaster's stare, and the way he strode out of the hall without speaking to me, that I was in trouble.

The entrance hall was silent. My shoes – or Alice's shoes – clicked on the floor as we walked to his office.

When we reached it, he held the door open to me. "Have a seat, Miss Swan."

But I froze a step into the office.

Lauren was sitting in one of the chairs, her eyes red, tears still glistening in them. And on the desk in front of her was a pointe shoe with bright red bubblegum.

Master Carlisle clicked the door shut behind me.

"I think you have some explaining to do, Miss Swan."

* * *

Lauren...

**Love it? Hate it? Forgotten it because of the long wait? Please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

Hello!

How are you all? Good, I hope?

I am currently sitting in my half destroyed room in my half destroyed house. Not entirely safe, but the only place I can work in. It's absolutely freezing because neither of my doors close, making it rather difficult to keep warm air in, and I'm working on a chest of drawers because my desk snapped (and threw my poor laptop to the ground and smashed it's screen...). Despite all this, I am in tremendous spirits.

Why?

Because I'm posting agaaaain!

And also because I've posted a **Teaser Trailer for Clair de Lune **on YouTube. YouTube or Google search** Clair de Lune: A Twilight Fanfiction Trailer**

Please comment or like or dislike! I really want to know what you think (I know, I know, the actions differ slightly from the scenes).

**Thank you so much to my amazing reviewers!**

**I can't tell you how happy I was to find out that you were still with me and that you wanted to kill Lauren and prove Bella's innocence!**

**Seriously, thank you if you sent me any sort of message, long or short, nice or...constructive criticismish...YOU'RE AMAZING!**

Ugh, principal's offices...I have visited them several times now about uniform problems...I _hate _them...

Anywho,

**Please Review**

**and Enjoy!**

* * *

_Exile by Enya - used this before and after the piece at the end...if that makes sense... _

* * *

I forced myself down into the seat next to Lauren. She didn't look at me. What the hell had she done? What the hell had she told Master Carlisle? Why? Surely she knew that I had more on her than she had on me?

I stared at her red rimmed eyes. She didn't look like Lauren. She didn't look smug. She didn't look angry. Just scared. _So she should be..._

Master Carlisle sat in his large leather seat on the other side of the desk, weaving his fingers together. He looked calm. Calm and terrifying. "What happened this morning in your Pas de Deux class, Miss Swan?"

I gulped, pressing my hands into one tight ball. "We were packing up and Jasper and..." I glanced down. Emmett was Master Carlisle's son...what would he think of me dobbing his _son _in?

"And Emmett," he finished for me, his voice cool, "continue."

"And they went over to Lauren and put gum on her shoe," Why was I so nervous? What reason was there to be nervous? If I told the truth then I'd be fine. I wasn't the one in the wrong...

Master Carlisle nodded, "And did you ask Emmett and Jasper to do that?"

What? "No," I said incredulously. But it sounded almost fake to me.

"Sure," muttered Lauren, finally breaking her silence. She glared at me for a split second, looking much more like the Lauren I knew. "Why would they do it otherwise?" As soon as she said it, she sunk back down in my chair, looking like she regretted what she'd just said...

I stared at her, my eyes narrowing. So she _did _know that I would simply tell them what she'd done to me...oh well, she didn't deserve sympathy. Master Carlisle ought to know... "I dunno, maybe because you – "

"Jeez, _maman!" _Emmett suddenly burst into the room, closely followed by Esme and Jasper. "We haven't done anything wrong today! I _swear..." _he caught sight of Lauren's pointe shoe on the desk. "Oh."

"Apart from that," Jasper muttered, scratching the back of his neck. He saw me in one of the seats and gave me a wink. How could he be so relaxed?

"Yes, boys," Madam Esme hissed, her sharp stilettos striking the floor as she walked round the desk to stand at Carlisle's side. "_That."_

I was glad Jasper and Emmett were here. They'd back me up...and they'd have proof of what Lauren and my class had done this morning...my mind suddenly froze. Lauren and my _class. _Oh God...I thought back to the dining hall a few minutes ago. If I told Master Carlisle...if I told him what Lauren had done, I would also tell on my entire class...but how could I do that? How could I do that when they'd just apologized and after we'd just become a group again?

And, more importantly, could I really afford to split the class up just before the review? When tomorrow night we would have to go on stage and dance in absolute unison and convey the same idea? When we had to beat the other class? When we had to _trust _each other? But Lauren deserved to be reprimanded...she deserved to be shown that you couldn't be so damned horrible to someone and get away with it. She deserved to be in my position, getting grilled by the headmaster.

But if I wanted Lauren to be punished, then they would all have to be punished. Like Abigail had said earlier, _"__We were dorks for following her." _They still did it. Even though they had the choice not to follow Lauren...my mind turned once again. Maybe they _should _be reprimanded? How did I know that they were being sincere when they'd said sorry? But I had to faith in them. Because they had _seemed _sincere. I had to take it at face value. Besides, even if they _hadn't _learnt their lesson, I would still be destroying the class just before the review...

"...it is outrageous," Madame Esme was saying, "it is _unacceptable, _to defile other people's property like this!"

"Defile other people's property!" Emmett exclaimed as Lauren's face paled, "Do you have any idea what Lauren and – "

"I told them to do it," I said quietly.

"What?" Said Jasper, scrunching his nose.

Emmett looked like he was about to launch off again. I tried to give him a stare which would tell him to be quiet, but it wasn't obvious enough. Crap. Words...excuses...something... "I told them that Lauren was being a bitch to me..." inspiration hit me, "after Thursday night, when she slapped me," I glanced at Madame Esme, making sure she remembered. She was staring at me with pursed lips...good... "I told Emmett and Jasper that she had been horrible to me since I'd gotten here, which is true," I added. Lauren was _not _going to get off without anything.

But what about Emmett and Jasper? They were still going to get caned for doing what I 'told' them to do... "I may not have told them the whole truth..." Lauren was staring at me, surprise on her face. Why wasn't I telling them about the footbaths?

"Yes," Madame Esme said mildly, "I do recall your little confrontation the other night not being 'one sided'."

Master Carlisle was gazing at me, his hands still clasped, but with one long finger touching his lips, "So you told Emmett and Jasper to do it?"

"Yes," I said.

"So you lied to me before?" The stark calmness of his words jabbed into me.

I looked down, nervous and guilty. No, I hadn't lied before...I was lying now... "Yes...sorry, sir."

He looked above me to the boys, dryly disregarding my apology. "And why did you two do what Miss Swan told you to do?"

"You have no idea what a bitch Lauren was!" Emmett exclaimed. I tilted my head a little, anxious to see him. He looked at me helplessly. I began to realise just how big a knot I might being tying myself in...

"_Ne les insulte pas_, Emmett!" Madame Esme snapped, then returned to English, "If you were having issues with Miss Mallory then _one _of you could have come to me or Carlisle! You do _not _take matters into your own hands! That is _not _your place!"

Edward...Esme sounded exactly like Edward had just a few hours ago, in class...oh, it felt like years ago. But it really was only a few hours ago that I'd thought of Edward as something...something more...God, I was just an idiot...

"Miss Swan," Master Carlisle's voice brought me back, "you will remember in future that you come to _us _when you have a problem, not your friends. It was not fair to put pressure on them to break the rules to help you."

Emmett went into an uproar, "It was _our _choice to do it! It was _our _idea to – "

"And Emmett and Jasper," Master Carlisle cut it, "You will remember that it is _not _your job to punish another student in favour of one of your friends. You should have come to us."

"You _knew _you should have," Madame Esme put in.

"But she – "

Master Carlisle put up a hand to stop him, "_Regardless _of the issues between these young ladies, we expected much better from the two of you."

That silenced the both of them. I knew everyone respected Master Carlisle. Even Jasper, who obviously had know him for a long time. Even Emmett, his own son. They wanted to live to his expectations. And when he'd said so blatantly that they hadn't...

"Sorry, sir," said Jasper, his Russian accent coming out more.

"Je suis désolé, papa," said Emmett.

"I believe an apology would be more fitted to Miss Mallory, gentlemen."

They both stiffly apologized to her. Emmett's face was slightly skewed as he got the words out. Master Carlisle he may have respected, but not Lauren. Lauren just nodded dully in return. Guilt was all over her face. I almost felt like kicking her to remind her to brighten up...

"The three of you will pay Miss Mallory back the cost of a new pair of pointe shoes. We will organise suitable punishments later," said Master Carlisle. "For now you're both excused."

They both nodded. Emmett stormed out. Jasper paused a moment, glancing at me. I gave him a small smile, trying to shove a dictionary's worth of words into it. That I was so thankful. That I would explain. That I was sorry. He gave me a tiny nod in return. I could see why he and Alice were a perfect match. They read people. And they cared about what they saw.

But then the door clicked shut, and it was just me, Lauren, Madame Esme and Master Carlisle.

Madame Esme pulled up a chair from the corner of the room, sitting next to Master Carlisle.

"There is very little time in the ballet world for little cat fights like you two are having," she said bluntly, "what is your problem with each other?"

I glanced at Lauren. She looked as though she felt just as awkward as I did. And just as likely to open up as I was...the question _was _interesting, though. I thought back. Right back...even before Edward...to when I'd first arrived. When I'd met her and Angela and Jessica and I'd told them that I was seventeen...I couldn't remember what she'd said, but it had made an impression...

Madame Esme sighed at our blank silence, "We cannot possibly resolve this without your cooperation."

I bit my lip. I almost _did _want to cooperate, but the truth was that I had no idea why we hated each other. It had just gotten worse and worse. I remembered her telling me I'd be stupid to have a 'crush' on Edward Masen. Perhaps I should have taken her damned advice...

Madame Esme leaned forward, "Is it about Jamie, Lauren?" I noticed how she always changed last name to first name when she was being compassionate...but why be compassionate now?

"She has much more right to be here than Bella does," Lauren replied quietly, looking down at her hands.

"We had our reasons, Miss Mallory," said Master Carlisle.

What were they talking about? Who was Jamie?

"I know," her voice cracked. I glanced at her. What was this about?

Madame Esme sighed again, "You know perfectly well that Bella had nothing to do with that decision."

"She did," Lauren said sharply, "The board said they were deliberating between two girls, one who had some sort of thing with age and Jamie. And they chose _her," _she swallowed, "But Jamie worked so hard for it...and she's the right _age."_

Master Carlisle took her insult to me calmly, "Whether or not those allegations are true, it was not Miss Swan's fault that Jamie didn't get in. You have no reason to attack Miss Swan for the Board's decision."

To my surprise, she nodded stiffly.

Master Carlisle fixed us both with a look, "I want this conflict between the two of you to stop. It is impossible to work in a corps de ballet or a company or, indeed, a ballet school when there are two people wishing to destroy each other. I won't hear of anymore fighting," he glanced at Lauren, "Or pranks, Miss Swan." I gulped as he gave me a hardy stare.

"Yes sir," we both said at the same time. It seemed we now had something in common; fear of the man sitting in front of us.

He sighed, "So what can we do to ingrain this message?"

"They already have conditioning class for the next week," Madame Esme informed him.

He nodded, "You'll both help in the kitchens each meal time until next Sunday."

Well that wasn't so bad...at least I wouldn't have to choose which table to sit at...if there even was a choice by next week. If Alice and Emmett and Jasper and Rosalie could bear me.

"Miss Mallory, you're excused," Master Carlisle said, pushing her pointe shoe across the desk towards her.

She held it delicately by the ribbon and stood up. "Thank you, sir."

Madame Esme also stood and put her chair back. Oh God...oh God they were going to leave me here...Master Carlisle had something more to say...

Lauren looked at me before she left. She seemed uncertain about whether to glare or look worried...but Madame Esme herded her out.

And then there were two.

I swallowed tightly as Master Carlisle straightened one of the pens on his desk. "Jamie is Miss Mallory's twin sister," he said conversationally. "They are very close to each other, which is why Jamie not getting in has been rather difficult for Miss Mallory. Jamie's a good dancer. Strong in character, much like her twin, and well educated in technique. What Miss Mallory said was quite right; it was a decision between you and her as to who would get the last place.

"You were both at the bottom of our lists. You because you were too old, Jamie simply because she wasn't quite as good as the others. It was a question of which one of you was most likely to take ballet to a professional level. Jamie had much more potential than you, Miss Swan," Master Carlisle pressed his fingertips together, staring at me over the top of them, "Ballet companies look for young, experienced dancers in their corps."

I nodded numbly, seeing my future crumbling in front of me. I had never allowed myself think so far ahead. To have it laid out so plainly... "Why was I chosen, then?"

"Because the Board saw something in you that they liked, Miss Swan," he said, "Indeed, they didn't think of you as corps de ballet material; you _are _too old, you _are _too inexperienced..." he leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk, "But soloists and principals have a different material altogether. They need originality, and perseverance, and confidence. We believed you had all those things, Miss Swan. And, above those, we saw you had passion. You love to dance, do you not?"

"Yes sir."

He nodded, "It is a clichéd idea, passion, but not at all stupid. You can see it in a dancer. It stands out. And so that is why we offered you the last place here instead of Jamie Mallory. She would have been good. We could have worked with her and she would have reached a good level. A national corps de ballet certainly. But we decided that if we could bring you up to your age group's level, you could go further. We ignored the fact that you were two years older. We decided that you would work hard. We decided that you would be a good role model. Which is why your little conflict Lauren is so appalling.

"Even if Lauren's problem with you was ridiculous and no fault of your own, the way you reacted to her was appalling. I've observed your various arguments with her in the dining hall. You let her lead you on in front of the whole school. You took her bait."

"I..." I began, wanting to stand up for myself...but then maybe he was right; I had taken her bait every time and said equally nasty things back to her. But what else could I do? Let her push me round?

"It's a difficult situation indeed, Miss Swan," said Master Carlisle, as if reading my mind, "but there are more subtle ways of taking insults than hurling another one back at the person. And there are certainly more subtle ways than asking your friends to embarrass the person in front of their entire class. Agreed?"

"Yes sir..." I shouldn't have said I'd told them...but even then, Jasper and Emmett would still be in trouble, along with my class...

"Good, then, I hope to say nothing more about that."

I nodded. _Let me go...let me leave..._

"One more thing, Miss Swan," _oh God, I just want to leave...I want to run...cry...scream..._ "You won't be dancing in the review tomorrow night."

My head snapped up. "What?" No, no, _no! _"Sir, please I'm sorry about the shoe thing...I'll do anything else but I _have _to dance in the review. I'll be letting my whole class down..."

Master Carlisle looked at me patiently, "This isn't just about your prank, Miss Swan. I was informed by a student that you were dancing when you'd been expressly told not to."

I frowned, "My concussion?" Who the hell had told him about that?

He nodded, "Yes, your concussion, Miss Swan. We have a policy at _Force _that dancers _must _do as our doctor tells them. Apparently you've been dancing every night, yes?"

"Yes, but..."

He shook his head, "It's unacceptable, Miss Swan. Once again you've decided to take things into your own hands."

"But I was _fine. _I didn't faint or anything. And I'm fine now...Doctor Hill said I could start dancing again today. I'll be fine for tomorrow."

But Master Carlisle just shook his head again, "You weren't meant to dance in the review, Miss Swan, not after you'd gotten a concussion. The only reason you kept your solo was because you broke the rules and rehearsed when you weren't meant to. It would be like we were saying your breaking the rules was acceptable if we allowed you to dance. That is not the message we want to get across."

"Please sir..." but I knew it was a lost cause. He had a point, however much I wanted to dance it...I knew that that particular rule was probably smart...

"You'll be able to take part in everything else tomorrow, Miss Swan, and I'm sure you'll class would like your support..." he caught my expression. His eyes glinted knowingly, "I'm sorry. You want to dance this piece very much..." he sighed, giving a small smile, "It is always the best dancers who give people the most grief, Miss Swan. Just learn to tame your passion...or be a little more subtle."

I couldn't help the tiny smile from appearing on my lips. Master Carlisle was headmaster...and he'd just stopped me from dancing...and he was angry at me for what I 'did' to Lauren...but he understood me. A bit.

Now he stood up and went round the desk to hold the door open for me.

"Goodnight, Miss Swan."

"Thank you, sir," I replied a little shakily.

As soon as the door shut I felt like collapsing. Dying. Vanishing into some place where no one would ever find me. But I couldn't.

I walked slowly along the corridor, along the side of the grand staircase. I let myself go numb. I let my mind sort through the facts. I'd lost the solo. I'd lost the solo and I'd saved Lauren's guilty butt. I'd found out that I had been extremely close to not getting into _Force. _I'd found out I had an enemy I didn't even know...

I had just reached the front of the stairs when I heard a muffled sniff from the girl's bathroom, which was by the theatre doors, opposite the dining hall. I frowned and went in.

Lauren stood at one of the basins. She wasn't crying, exactly, she was just having those god awful sniffles you get _after _you cry. The ones which are loud and obvious and uncontrollable. Her hands gripped the edges of the basin. "Why didn't you tell them?" She demanded, staring at the tap.

"Because I didn't want to get the whole class in trouble."

"Why not?"

"Because they apologized to me, and they paid me back..." I said, stepping further into the bathroom. "Between you and me, our class has been shred apart enough, don't you think?"

"You mean everyone taking my side?" She finally turned around, standing tall. The areas round her eyes were still red, though.

"Not exactly," I said.

She smirked, but it wasn't up to her normal nastiness, "I really don't like you."

"And I don't like you much, either..." I frowned. It was probably the first honest thing we'd said to each other since...well, ever. "I get why you're pissed at me about Jamie, even though it really wasn't my fault."

She rolled her eyes, "I know it's not your fault. But really? You just strolled in _weeks _late and took over the entire class, along with the solo, and along with Jessica's pas de deux partner. You're stuck up because you're older than us. You're _better _because you're older than us. I'm pissed because you've taken my sister's opportunity to become a dancer and you're not even _using _it properly. You've put the solo in and taken it out like it's nothing, not recognizing how _important _it is. You spend half your time in the library. You don't even join in with your class, you go hang out with the seniors. My sister would have done the spot more justice. And she wouldn't have been such a bitch about it all."

I stared at her. "Maybe..." I said, before thinking, "I do spend half my time in the library and I do hang out with Alice and stuff. Maybe I am stuck up because I _do _think you're immature, but I don't think I show it that much...and the solo..." I sighed. "The solo was out of my hands. I didn't choose to get concussed. I didn't choose for Edward Masen to drag me off to Doctor Hill...I didn't choose for someone to see me rehearsing and for Master Carlisle to ban me from the review..."

"What?" said Lauren. "You're not doing it?"

I nodded, "Someone saw me and told him...I'm not allowed to dance the solo tomorrow."

"Shit," she said. She seemed sincere...so she did care about the class's performance?

"Agreed," I muttered. "And it probably wouldn't have happened if none of this other crap had happened...why did you tell on me when you knew I'd tell on you?"

She shook her head, "I didn't tell on you. Madame Esme found me pulling off bubblegum when I should've been in the dining hall. I kind of had to tell. Besides, you _did _tell them to do it."

"I didn't," I said, "That was just because I needed to make sure Emmett and Jasper knew not to tell about this morning. And I had to give a reason for them to do it. They wouldn't have done that to you if you hadn't done _something _wrong. It was just that the thing you had done wrong would get everyone in trouble."

"I don't regret the footbath thing," she said warningly. "I just regret getting caught."

"I never counted on you regretting it...but don't do it again, Lauren."

She smiled grimly, "Not with the wrath of both Carlisle Cullen and Edward Masen coming down on top of me. I'll be more subtle next time."

I glanced at my phone. "Nine-thirty. Everyone'll be in bed," I looked her up and down, "Are you going to tell anyone about what's happened?"

"What, you amazing sacrifice and shit?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, "I won't say anything. There's not much glory in there for me."

"Good, then," I muttered, "I'll say I just got called in Master Carlisle's office so he could tell me I'm not going to be able to dance in the review. You just spent the evening scraping gum off your shoe."

"Yup."

We stood at opposite ends of the bathroom, eyeing each other as I imagined two fighters would, seeing whether the other would strike. Where did I stand with Lauren now? She seemed to still be bitchy...but we seemed to have reached a level of honesty with each other. Pronounced enemies. It sounded good...

"A truce," I said, "Until the review's over."

She raised an eyebrow, "We better win the damn thing."

I nodded, and spun on my heel, pushing out the bathroom door.

The dorm was dark when I finally got there, and it seemed that everyone was asleep. Thank God. I didn't think I could deal with telling anyone that I'd let them down _again..._

Thoughts wouldn't stop spinning in my head as I blindly got dressed into my PJ's and got under the covers. Today...it had been such a whirlwind of...everything. Waking up and getting my stuff soiled in footbath gunk, and then Tech, when I'd finally shown my class my dance..._the dance which won't ever see the stage lights..._and then getting my costume, my beautiful costume which I'd never get to wear again...and then Emmett and Jasper's stunt...and then going to the ballet shop and meeting Mister Maier-Gim and seeing all his wonderful wares...and then seeing Angela...

God, Angela...I'd almost forgotten her news, the fact that she might not ever be able to dance again...maybe I wasn't allowed to dance for a night, but forever? Her pain would surely have been thousands of times worse than mine? But then I'd seen Edward..._that _pain..._Don't think of it, Bella..._and then the apology from my class, and hanging out with them and laughing and having fun...and then tonight, losing my solo...

I realized I didn't even feel even slightly tired. I couldn't let my thoughts get me like this...

Using the light of my phone, I got up and pulled my new pointes out of my bag and dug around in my trunk for my sewing box. It was covered in footbath water, but I shook it off and got out my needle and thread. I began to sew. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out...

\*\*/*/

I woke early. The sky was just lightening. I felt different. I felt almost ethereal...calm and yet at the same time something was fluttering in me. I wasn't performing today...but it felt like something was going to happen. Today was the review. Today I was going to tell my class once again that I wasn't doing the solo.

Today was the day when Edward was leaving.

I took a long breath and slid my legs out from under the duvet. Silently, I changed into my tights and Alice's light purple leo. I left my hair loose. It just felt...better. Then I picked up my pointe shoes from the side of my bed. The ribbons still hadn't been burnt to stop the fraying, and I hadn't cut the toe box, but I didn't care. I put them on and tied them up, grabbed my iPod and slipped out the door.

The corridors were so quiet. I remembered Madame Esme leading me up here not so long ago. This building wasn't just a beautiful building anymore. It had memories. And it felt, at the moment, at least, that there were more bad memories than good. I let my hand rest lightly on the cool wood banister as I went down the staircase. So much had happened since the day I'd lugged my suitcase up these stairs. I had changed...but I wasn't sure whether was for better or for worse. I wasn't sure I wanted to know...

I went reached the second floor and walked down the central corridor, past the studios for my various classes. I hesitated at the end. There was Edward's studio. The last door on the left. Where I'd first seen him.

I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to erase the emotions stirring in me. The yearning...but it didn't work. I opened them again and went to the studio much closer to the staircase. At least this one had good memories. Of when I'd danced to _All of Me. _When I'd first shown Madame Cox my new choreography and she'd approved it. Yes, good memories...

I went in. Sunlight was just entering through the windows. The net curtains hadn't been shut, and so the rays of warm golden light delicately spread across the floor. I plugged in my iPod. There was no question of which piece to play. I needed it. I wanted it...and it would be the last time I ever heard it.

The first notes played. My eyes shut. I felt the warm sun on my face. My hands floated to my front, creating an oval. I breathed in and out. And as the music repeated again, I raised my arms. They glided up above my head. And then they parts, coming out to my sides and back down. I stepped forwards, and then up into an arabesque. My pointe shoe felt stiff and sore, but I didn't care.

All I saw were the colours of the music on the backs of my eyelids.

One hand reached forward, the other behind. And then I lowered, coming down in a plie. I rose back to the tip of my toes. As the notes began to run down the piano keys, I made the tiny tiptoeing steps.

And then it gained intensity, and I was lowering down one knee, surrendering myself...and then the fast notes came, tumbling down upon each other, and I was up again, spinning and twirling like the world was just me and the beautiful music. I twirled and twirled, feeling the air swish around me...oh...and the fast notes became louder, and I leapt, casting myself into the air and then as the notes calmed down once more, I was back on the tips of my toes, moving back and forth, my arms gliding around me...but the notes turned delicate again, repeating the beginning.

I felt warm tears at my eyelashes as I reached up into an arabesque again. Because the end was coming. Because I knew that the joy I'd just felt was silly...illogical...a single tear slid down my cheek. My fingers, which had been gently reaching for some unknown, beautiful thing, suddenly clenched into fists. My legs, one stretched out behind, and the other straight and long, as if balancing on a star too small for one to stand on, collapsed, both dropping down until I was standing normally again. And then my eyes opened. I was back in the real world. And Edward was standing at the door.

"Sorry," he said distantly, his eyes fixed on my cheek. Quickly, I dashed the tear away.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him. My voice was little more than a croak.

His eyes flicked to mine. They were suddenly alert. "I heard music..." he took a heavy breath, as if searching for something else to say. I knew he wanted to leave, "Good luck with the review tonight."

I narrowed my eyes, but it just made the tears pool. Oh God, I had to do something...I was a fool on display...I walked briskly to the CD player and began unplugging my iPod. "I'm not doing it anymore." Confidence, calmness...God, why couldn't I just sound normal?

"Why not?" I could picture him frowning, but I couldn't check.

"Someone told Master Carlisle I'd been dancing with injury."

My iPod was finished...what else could I do? I slid to the floor and began picking at the knots of my ribbons, sweeping my hair over my left shoulder like a curtain.

"Who told?"

"It doesn't matter," I muttered.

"How can it not matter?" He asked, his voice edging on something...incredulity?

"My class will be fine without me."

"But you? Watching them dance without you?"

My tears were unstoppable now. They spilt over, running down my cheeks. I didn't want to hear those words. I wanted to deny that today was going to be horrible. I didn't want to recognize it.

"Bella..." I heard him step towards me. Oh God...I leapt up, grabbing my pointe shoes and iPod in one hand and wiping the tears away with the other.

He was only a metre away from me, leaning back a little, surprised by my movement. But it had been a bad idea. Now he saw my face fully. His eyes turned pained.

"Bella..." he said again, stepping closer.

"No," I said sharply.

He stopped and frowned, "Bella, just because of what I said yesterday...it doesn't mean I don't care about you as a student..."

"Don't care about me, Edward," I told him, the words out before I could possibly think. "I can't take comfort from you when you...when I thought of you...but now..." I gulped and shut my eyes, praying for something I could say...

"I understand," he said softly.

I slowly opened my eyes again. "Good luck with your audition."

He nodded, "Thank you, Bella." And without another look at me, he turned and walked out.

I stared at the back of him, knowing instinctually that it was the last time I'd ever see him.

* * *

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	22. Chapter 22 ag

Bonjour!

Mon dieu, je suis tres fatigue!

Oh yeah, if I ever get stuck in the middle of Paris and need to find a hotel, I can say really useful things like 'God I'm tired' and 'I have a pencil in my pencil case'.

Okay, so I know this is very late, but two things to celebrate:

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And secondly: Yay! With the release of this chapter, my word count is over 100 000! Again, just numbers, but it's just cool to see. Again, I never would have gotten this far without you guys! So here is my longest chapter, with 6 497 words! Hurray!

Oh yeah, by the way, the **US Ballet and US Ballet Academy doesn't refer to the American Ballet or the AB School**! They are fictional! I'd hate to insult the real company and school because I hope they don't have utter bastards like Irina Denali and Jeffrey Evans and such...

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* * *

Superchick - Still Here

* * *

_Keep control. _I had to keep control. I would not cry. No. No crying. There had been enough of that this morning...no crying. I felt sick. Sick that he was gone. And even sicker _because _I was sick that he was gone. Hadn't I already told myself that it had all been a delusion? Hadn't I already promised that I would see clearly from now on? Hadn't I allowed myself to be upset for long enough? Why...why couldn't I just feel indifferent to Edward?

The answer was, for once, obvious. Some part of me still believed the delusion. Some part of me still thought that there had been something between me and Edward Masen when we had danced together.

I swallowed, biting my cheek hard, knowing that that part of me wanted to cry until the sun went out.

_I won't let it, _I told myself. I would starve that part of me out. I wouldn't give it another reason to believe in the connection. Edward was gone. He wasn't going to come back. There would be no more of his actions to interpret. No more of his words to twist into my meaning. No more of his deep emerald eyes to fall into. I would let that deluded part of me die out. I'd free myself.

And then I would be fine. Once Edward had been gone a while, I would be fine...I wouldn't feel like I was yearning for something. I wouldn't miss him. And that would be that...

I sat down and put my pointes back on and yanked my hair up into a messy bun. I still had too much time before the rest of the school woke. I had to keep myself, my mind, occupied. I plugged my iPod back in, flicking quickly away from 'last played' to my playlists. I scrolled down until I found my modern playlist. Superchick came on. I turned it up to full volume. I couldn't find the strength to care if Madame Esme stormed in and yelled at me.

I went to the barre and began the movements.

For an hour, I pushed myself hard, letting the shouting lyrics drown out my thoughts. I consumed myself by staring at the mirror like I never had before, correcting my posture and my arches. To mould to a dancer's foot, pointe shoes had to be sweated into. By God did I sweat. I held my leg just under ninety degrees for half a song.

I practised my courus – the little tiptoe steps. I made sure my fifth position was strong. I watched my back leg like a hawk to make sure it wasn't bending too much. And then I moved to leaps. Petit Jetes. Grande Jetes. Tour Jetes. Then Pas de Chats and Pas de Chevals. I performed penches again and again, trying to get them perfect when I'd only just realised I could do them. But that was all that ballet was, wasn't it? Demanding impossible feats and never really achieving them?

Then I went onto pirouettes, spinning on my pointe. I knew the satin on my toeboxes was already worn. The room spun around me. Double double triple...and then I broke into fouettes, my leg coming out in each spin. Both legs ached, and my arms, moving constantly from second to fifth, strained now with each movement. No. I had to keep going...it didn't matter if it hurt...my breathing became martyred. Sweat flew from me. I'd counted forty so far. I gritted my teeth. Five more...one...two...three..._four..._

"There you are!"

I broke off with a stumble. Eliza and Violet were standing in the doorway, grinning eagerly. "Morning!" Violet squealed, hurrying into the room.

Eliza was looking me up and down, "You're gonna wear yourself out before we've even started."

I shrugged, my breathing ragged. I wiped the sweat from my brow. "I had to break in my pointe shoes." My voice sounded dead. Robotic. But they didn't seem to notice.

"C'mon," said Violet, "Breakfast's early this morning."

"And Master Carlisle's gonna be announcing stuff afterwards," added Eliza.

I nodded and once more unplugged my iPod. Violet buzzed impatiently around me as I took off my pointes, "So?" She said eventually, "What happened with Master Carlisle last night?"

Oh God...I bit my lip, swallowing. "I'll tell you guys later...once we get to tech."

I could see them both frowning at each other, but they said nothing.

I stood up, trying to have far more bounce than I was now capable of having. "Let's go."

\*\*/*/

The dining hall was buzzing with excited nerves. At each table, people were huddled, giving furtive looks at their enemy classes, talking hurriedly. The teachers sat at their long table on the dais, looking calm and demure. But with a second look, I realized Madame Bansch was talking with a very Russian smirk to Master Hinde, who talked back with an equally evil smile, not letting her words get to him. Master Rodriguez, who Angela had once pointed out to me, was talking with easy confidence to the teachers around him, whilst Madame Cox just sipped her tea disinterestedly.

Master Carlisle and Madame Esme sat in their seats in the middle, talking quietly, looking out at their school. Madame Esme saw me standing in the queue. She looked for only a moment before turning back and saying something to Master Carlisle. Begging him to let me dance? I doubted it...

"I can't believe it's today!" Violet squeaked next to me. I tried to smile. "We are gonna be _so _good! We're gonna blow Master Rodriguez's class way off the ranks."

"We _might," _said Eliza, "So long as they don't have anything else up their sleeves."

Violet grinned, "We've got Bella up our sleeves."

I felt sick...

"Good luck, girls," said the serving lady with a smile as she handed us our bowls of porridge. It seemed that everyone was excited. Everyone but me.

We got out of the line, and were heading for our class's table when I felt eyes on me. Alice, Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie sat at their table, looking at me earnestly. Oh God...I turned to Eliza and Violet, "Guys, I'll come in a sec; I just have to do something."

"'kay," said Eliza. Violet's face fell a little.

"_You don't even join in with your class; you go hang out with the seniors," _

Lauren was right...but I doubted I'd ever hang out with Alice and everyone again.

Nervously, I went over.

"Hey," I said quietly. Well, maybe I wasn't the only one who didn't seem excited. They all looked drawn and tired. I perched on the edge of an empty seat. I looked to Emmett and Jasper, "I'm so sorry about last night."

They exchanged a glance. Emmett leaned forward, his eyes earnest, "Bella, why didn't you tell my parents what really happened?"

"That bitch deserves all that she would've gotten," said Rosalie.

"I know," I said. "And it wasn't for her...my whole class was involved...I just couldn't..."

"Then they _all _deserve it, Bella," said Jasper, as if I couldn't understand.

I sighed, keeping my tears in check. It seemed I hadn't run out yet. How could I explain it to them? How could I make _them _understand? "It's just that if I told Master Carlisle, then my class would have been divided again..." I looked at them helplessly.

"Bella..." Emmett began.

"And you can't have a divided class before the review," Alice cut in. I looked at her. She was nodding, "I get it. Whatever they did, you still have to function as a class. You won't win tonight if you all hate each other."

"That's what I meant," I said quietly. Thank God for Alice...

Rosalie still looked unconvinced, her red lips pursed broodingly. But Emmett and Jasper seemed to be considering it. "Bella, _Lauren_ at least deserves to get punished in _some _way," Emmett fixed me with his sharp blue eyes, "We saw your face yesterday morning. She made you miserable."

"I know," I said. "But she knows she can't do it again. And with what you guys did, and with..." I bit my lip, "with what Edward did...that was punishment enough. She's been embarrassed enough to know not to try anything like that again."

"Edward?" Said Rosalie, "What did that jackass do?"

"He just talked to them about it," I told her, wishing I hadn't said anything in the first place.

"He's not a jackass, Rose," Alice said tiredly. "It's the US _Ballet._ It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Jasper made a face, "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity whenever Irina Denali chooses."

"Whenever she sleeps with Frank Rebrevae," muttered Emmett.

Alice shrugged, "But Edward still didn't have a choice, did he?"

"He would have had another chance; he had that audition in a few months anyway," Rosalie scoffed, "It's just because he wanted to get away from – " she cut off, looking right at me.

My suppressed pain surged forward again. So he'd left because of me? Because he'd known what I thought about him...because I was messing things up for him...when I'd spied on him when he'd been rehearsing...when I kept annoying Tanya...when I'd distracted him in class with Mike or with my concussion...I'd made him leave...

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, standing up.

Alice grabbed my hand, "Bella, that's not true. He left because it was a good opportunity – "

I shook my head, "No, it is because of me. I made things difficult for him."

She huffed, "Maybe, Bella, but not for the reasons you're thinking of."

This was too much...I couldn't cope with this all again...clearly the delusion wasn't over...I picked up my bowl, tugging my hand from her grasp. "You're wrong, Alice. Edward explained it to me yesterday..." I took a deep breath, "Good luck with the review." Then I turned and walked away, the sick feeling mounting up once again. Everything was crumbling. First my damned delusion, then my solo, then Edward himself, and now his friends...there was just one more part of my life at _Force _which had yet to turn against me...

At my class's table, I was greeted with smiles. Smiles on the one day where I didn't deserve them...

"Hey Bella," said Selene as I sat down, "What was last night about?"

"Yeah," said Ryan, "Master Carlisle looked pretty pissed."

"I'll tell you when we get to class," I said, trying to force nonchalance into my voice. Lauren, who was once again in her usual spot between Jessica and Megan, raised her eyebrow. I averted my gaze, hoping she wouldn't say anything.

"I can't wait for the other schools get here," Violet said perkily, "Show 'em what we're made of."

"Yeah, we'll deflate the US Ballet Academy's massive egos," said Tyler with a smirk, "Just 'cause they're the 'national academy'."

"And Aro Colaianni's meant to be pretty stuck up, too," Abigail put in.

Eliza laughed, "'cause here at _Force _we're such a modest bunch, huh?"

It was then that Master Carlisle stood up from his table and came to stand at the front of the dais where a cherry wood lectern had been placed. The Crest of Marcus Vigernon was carved into the front. Master Carlisle's eyes twinkled in the lights from the chandeliers as he looked out at the hall with a slight smile. It didn't seem as reassuring as it had been on the first night he had stood up. Last night's meeting with him had changed all that. My mind tugged and toiled, wanting to find fault with him, but I understood why he had banned me from the review; I had danced when I'd been injured, and, to the best of his knowledge, I'd also bullied a fellow student.

"Good Morning, school," he said once everyone had become silent. I tried to throw away my confusion and just listen to his words. "In less than ten hours time, you will be on the stage of _Force de la Beauté," _Violet straightened up beside me. A shot of nerves sprung in my stomach. Why? My class was going to do fine...

'_But you? Watching them dance without you?' _

Edward...I shut my eyes for a second, carefully putting up the walls to block out his words...

Meanwhile, Master Carlisle continued, "Soon, we will get into the programme of the day, but before that, I have a quick announcement to make," his face turned a little grim, "Two of our honour students, Edward Masen and Tanya Denali, have been offered an audition and almost certain spot in the United State's Ballet's Nutcracker. This is a very great achievement which we will applaud them for when they return, but for the moment this is just to say that they will not be competing today, and consequently Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale will be taking their places in the Grand Pas de Deux section of the Review."

"Lucky bastard," Ryan whispered to Tyler.

"Oh my _God," _said Abigail, "The US Ballet!"

I noticed a few seniors sitting at a table in front of us give each other glum looks. They'd lost two of their dancers...at least my class had unwillingly created an alternative. At her table, Alice put a hand to her cheek, shutting her eyes. I had been right yesterday – Alice had far more right to be upset than I did.

"Moving on," said Master Carlisle, silencing us once again, "The day will begin with warm up and barre in your tech classes as usual. Any class disobeying this rule for extra rehearsal time will immediately be pulled from the Review; we will not tolerate any risk taking when it regards your physical health," his eyes came to rest on me for a split second. I looked down quickly, too ashamed and conflicted to face him.

"Rehearsals will commence at ten and will continue until one, when we will break for an hour for lunch, then return to rehearsals. At five, all those who are not performing in the Review will report to Master Hinde."

Wonderful; I couldn't even _watch_ my class. Though maybe they wouldn't want me there...

"For everyone else, rehearsals will go on until about six, when we expect the other schools to arrive. Everyone will then proceed to the dressing rooms backstage for hair and makeup – students are _not _to be seen in the theatre or the corridors. The opening speeches will be made at seven fifteen. Performances will open with Madame Cox's first year class at approximately seven thirty."

A wave of nerves hit me. My class...even if I wasn't with them...today they were going to be on stage!

"After the Review, which we expect to last up to three hours, there will be the traditional dinner in the Dining Hall where the winners will be announced." He looked over the hall, leaning back from the lectern, "I doubt I need to remind you of the importance of this review. There will be powerful people in that audience who will be making judgements which could ultimately decide whether you get into their companies or not. Reputation is _everything. _And reviews like these will make or break your reputations. Understood?" Master Carlisle gave his school one last look.

"You are all good dancers, you know that. _Il y a force de la beauté, monsieurs et mademoiselles, et il y a beauté de le force." _

He then went to sit back down, and Master Hinde came up and began to talk about uniform requirements and rules.

Eliza leant over to me, "Apparently Master Carlisle always says that before performances," she whispered. "Kind of a _Force _tradition."

I nodded, staring at the school coat of arms. Strength in beauty...beauty in strength...maybe that was true, but I felt neither. I didn't feel strong. I didn't feel beautiful. I felt weak and pathetic, torn down by the events of today and yesterday. But maybe that was just life...

"...and must I remind you that _all _earrings are to be taken off before going on stage?" Master Hinde was saying, mopping his brow. "All leotards are to be _black, _Miss Brandon..." people giggled, though Alice's reactionary smile wasn't quite the same mocking grin it probably would have been. Master Hinde sighed, "Right, school dismissed."

"Oh my God!" Squeaked Violet as we all got up and grabbed our plates. "I can't believe it's today!"

"I know," I said quietly.

"Hey, cheer up, Bells," she said as we dropped our plates off at the window, "You're gonna be amazing!"

"I know," said Abigail, tagging along, "when you danced yesterday I was like 'jeez, she's good.'"

Crap...crap...God, why had I gone and broken the rules? Now I was going to let my whole class down...

We reached our studio. Without any of the normal messing around, everyone was putting their shoes on and warming up.

Madame Cox and Mister Woolston came in earlier than usual. Everyone half got up to bow and curtsy, but instead of striding to the front of the class as she usually did, she stayed near the door, "Miss Swan," she said, gesturing for me. Eliza gave me a puzzled look as I stood up.

Madame Cox looked tired. Her tight bun wasn't as regal as yesterday. Her eyes looked a little baggy. But she still stood tall, like the fearsome teacher I now knew her as.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," I said quietly, not even sure which offence to apologize for; doing it in the first place or getting found out? "I didn't mean for this to – "

"Save it, Miss Swan," she said calmly, "What you did, you did with my full consent, and I certainly do not blame you, seeing what you created..." she shook her head, "I assure you that I have tried my best to win back your solo, but the Headmaster has stringent rules about this sort of thing."

"Did you get in trouble, ma'am?" I asked her.

She smiled, "No more than I can manage, Miss Swan. It was worth it. Many people will not see that solo, but I will always remember it."

My heart warmed for a second. "Thank you m – "

"Now," she said, straight back into business, "do you want to tell them or shall I?"

I glanced behind her to my class's reflection in the mirror. A few of them were looking at us, but most were stretching or talking quietly. I looked back to Madame Cox, "They've heard the wrong stories way too many times. I'll tell them."

She nodded, "Good girl." She turned to the class and clapped her hands, "Silence! Miss Swan has an announcement to make before we begin."

I stood at the front, my fingers twisting around each other. Violet and Eliza were both staring at me confusedly. Abigail was looking expectant, like I was going to tell them some magnificent news. Tyler and Ryan were both slouched disinterestedly. Lauren stood leaning against the barre at the back, smirking at me.

_Breathe..._ "Last night," I began, "When Master Carlisle called me to his office, he told me that he'd found out about how I'd been dancing when I'd been injured and that..." I swallowed, "That I'm not allowed to dance in the Review tonight."

They stared at me. I bit hard on the inside of my cheek..._just breathe...just breathe..._

"What. The. Hell?" Jessica said eventually. "You can't be serious."

"We perform _tonight," _said Tyler, glaring at me.

"I'm really sorry," I said pathetically.

"No you're not," snapped Megan. "How many times have you done this to us now?"

Madame Cox, standing by the wall, caught my eye concernedly. I gave a slight shake of my head. I couldn't hide behind her. I needed them to yell and scream at me. She nodded, but I could tell she wouldn't let it go too far.

"You don't give a crap about this class," said Ryan. "You don't care about being part of a _team. _You just go making your own rules, dipping in and out of your solo depending on how you feel, rehearsing when you want to. Maybe you couldn't control it the first time, with your concussion, but you could have just accepted that you weren't gonna be dancing the solo."

"Yeah," said Abigail unhappily, "You didn't need to go ask for it back and screw it all up _again."_

"You wouldn't have been found out," said Jane. "We wouldn't have had to have learnt _three _routines!"

"This is really bad," groaned Selene. At least it wasn't _exactly _directed at me...

"We're never going to win," muttered Ben.

"Oh stop being such emos," Lauren suddenly snapped, pushing off from the barre. "Her solo wasn't that amazing in the first place and we have another dance already – one which we've been rehearsing for just as long."

"Bella _was _good, though," said Violet, "maybe we could all go and see Master Carlisle..."

Lauren glared at her, "Grow up, Violet; whatever your opinion is, she's not doing it. So instead of moping around and saying we're screwed, why don't we actually do some ballet, huh?"

"She's right," Eliza murmured. "Regardless of our opinions of what Bella did, we've got to start rehearsing. We should just accept that Bella's not doing her solo and we have to perform the second version instead."

"But we _just _found out," said Abigail, "can't we get some breathing space?"

"No," said Lauren, "Jesus, we have seven hours _max _to practise and _memorize _this dance! We can't have freaking breathing space! We can't have a friendship circle and talk about how we feel! We need to rehearse!"

"Well said, Miss Mallory," said Madame Cox dryly. "It is sad indeed that we don't have Miss Swan's solo, but I believe now is not the time for placing blame." She clapped her hands, "To the barre! Come on! Mister Woolston, if you'd be so kind!" Mechanically, my class stood up. They knew what they had to do. Their emotions toward me would have to wait.

Consequently, no one looked at me for the rest of the morning. Not during barre, which Madame Cox told me to do even though there was little point warming up, or during the rehearsals which followed. I just sat as they went over the dance again and again.

They'd kept certain aspects – the pirouettes at the beginning and the boys entering after the girls – but most of it was different. There was no tentative beginning. There was no tight circle during the bridge which I'd hide in and then burst out of, suddenly understanding dance on a whole new level... There was none of the dance that I had imagined in my mind. No story of awakening. Of realizing the World of Dance. It was just...it was just a dance...

But I had no control over that anymore. No one had; it was too late to change anything.

It was quarter to one. I had been sitting by the piano for the whole time, trying to make myself scarce. No one needed me getting in the way. They worked with extreme focus. No one talked. No one looked away from the mirrors and Madame Cox. Jessica didn't giggle. Lauren didn't flirt. Megan didn't tell everyone what they were doing wrong...but even though they were all so focussed, things weren't going well.

"We have half an hour before lunch!" Madame Cox announced, striding up and down the front of the room once again, as she had done thousands of times already. "Every single interval must be sharper! You need to extend! You need to look brighter! This music is about giving your whole self to something! It means putting your personality into it!"

No one reacted. They just wearily swigged water from their bottles and got back into formation. "And five six seven eight...and smile! Come on! You're not robots! Good, that's it!"

But everyone could tell that it wasn't. They were all so tired. At this rate I'd be the only one awake by the time tonight came...

Lunch was a relief, though. Everyone dragged their hoodies and cardigans on and trudged out through the door.

Eliza gave me a little smile as she walked out, but then she caught up with the others. I knew why. I wasn't going through the stress they were going through. I wasn't going through the worry of having to fix a whole dance in two rehearsals. I wasn't tired and aching like them.

So I waited a few minutes before heading down to the dining hall, where I sat alone at a vacant table at the back of the hall, trying to get myself to eat something. I didn't want to think. I just sat and let myself be lulled by the tiny raindrops tapping on the window.

Was it raining in New York right now? Would he be there yet...maybe he was at the studios already, warming up. Stretching. Maybe he was sewing up his ballet slippers. Rehearsing one of the lifts with Tanya.

_But it doesn't matter...it doesn't matter what Edward Masen, your partnering teacher, is doing..._

The second rehearsal went a little better; everyone was perkier after their break. But there were still problems remaining. "Look lively!" Madame Cox demanded, walking right up to Jane in the front row, "Use your face! Your legs and arms aren't enough! What is the music saying? What is this crescendo suggesting! Come on!"

They reached the end once again, finishing in one long line, the girls en pointe and the guys down on one knee in between them. Madame Cox had her hands on her hips, staring at them. "This shouldn't be so difficult. Why are you having so much trouble connecting with a simple concept? Hmm?"

It looked as though no one would reply again, but Ben suddenly spoke up, his voice quiet, "It's Bella's dance, ma'am; not ours."

Madame Cox raised her eyebrows at him, "It's not – " she stopped herself, taking a breath, "Perhaps it is, but I doubt that this music was written just for Miss Swan's enjoyment. You _must _work this out."

Just as Madame Cox was about to say the rest of her notes, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Oh my God!" Squealed Violet, "Angela!"

Angela came in, her arm still in a cuff and collar, wearing jeans and a thick jacket.

Forgetting all class etiquette, everyone hurried to the door with the exception of me, Lauren, and Ben, who looked mortified.

"Woah, easy Vi'," she laughed as Violet gave her an enthusiastic hug.

"How are you?" Asked Eliza.

"Is it going to be okay?"

"When are you coming back?"

"Miss Weber," Said Madame Cox, a smile sneaking onto her face for the first time today. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

The class managed to split enough to allow her to speak to our teacher.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, as politely as usual, "I just got discharged and I wanted to see everyone before the review tonight."

Madame Cox nodded, "You can sit in and watch, if you like, but I do ask that we return to rehearsing straight away. We've had a few last minute changes."

And suddenly everyone wanted to fill her in on what had happened with me.

"Bella's lost the solo again."

"We're back on, like, version two."

"It's hell, seriously."

"She's dumped us in some serious shit."

"We're gonna get thrashed."

I sat back and waited as they vented out a bit of their emotions and got her a chair and made sure she was comfortable. Madame Cox tapped her foot as they finally returned to their positions. "Okay, from the tour jetes, five six seven..."

Angela watched politely as they went through their moves again and again. Though her return had helped, they still weren't finding much connection in the music. She occasionally looked at me, but we both knew we couldn't talk here. She must have been itching to, though, because when I excused myself to report to Master Hinde at five o'clock, Angela came with me. We left under the scrutiny of the whole class.

"Jeez," she said as soon as we were out of ear shot. "I only saw you yesterday afternoon! What on Earth's been happening?"

"So much, Ange'," I said as we quickly hugged. "I'm so glad you're here." I was surprised with my sincerity...I _was _relieved Angela was here. I trusted her.

We reached the Entrance Hall. There were only four other people not performing. One girl was recovering from a hip operation, two had minor injuries and one other boy had been overseas until yesterday and hadn't had time to catch up. None of them had been stopped as a punishment...

Our tasks were easy, though. The other schools were coming and we were to be their guides, making sure they got from one place to the other. Until they came, we were to set up the dining hall and help out the dinner ladies. Angela and I were put in charge of putting vases of flowers on the tables. I would carry, and then Angela would arrange, seeing as she only had one functioning arm. It gave us good time to talk.

Like yesterday, I found myself spilling everything out to her, including all of my meeting with Master Carlisle. It was a relief to tell someone the full details. Right from Lauren's first allegations to the fact that she had a twin to our confrontation in the bathrooms.

"I knew Lauren had a sister," said Angela, "I had no idea that you and her were in competition for the last spot here, though. Still, it's no reason for Lauren to be such a bitch."

Though it was good to get the meeting with Master Carlisle off my chest, I began to realize more and more that the real issue couldn't even be expressed. How could I explain the whole thing with Edward to her? How could I possibly admit to being such a fool?

Finally we finished doing the flowers, and Master Hinde told me to go upstairs and change into proper clothes. Angela and I slowly trooped up to our dorm, "Aren't you tired, Ange'?" I asked, pulling on Alice's clothes from yesterday. "You only just got out."

"It's not too bad," she said. "I'll just have a snooze when Master Rodriguez's class starts dancing."

I laughed. "I dunno...they'll probably beat us."

She frowned, "It seems like Madame Cox is trying to get them to dance a dance which isn't theirs. From what I've heard, you pretty much made that dance your own. Your interpretation of it sounds pretty deep; how can anyone replicate that?"

I nodded glumly, "I guess so. But they have to find some sort of way to get _something _across."

Angela sighed, "Realistically, you're the only one who can do that piece justice. If only you'd get magically reinstated."

"If only world peace was achieved," I muttered. We began to head back down to the Entrance Hall.

"So he said you weren't allowed to dance in the Review full stop?"

"Yep."

"I guess rules are rules," she said quietly.

"You guess?" I repeated.

She shrugged, then winced at the pain, "I mean...every rule is breakable, right?"

I smiled, "Maybe, but I don't think I need to give Master Carlisle another excuse to kick me out."

"I guess it depends what you're gonna lose if you _do _break it," she said, "It's a balancing act."

It put a miserable end to that fantasy.

Under directions from Master Hinde, we went outside to the front courtyard to wait for the busses. Angela and I had been assigned the group from the US Ballet Academy. The rain was clearing a little, and it only spat on and off.

"Ben didn't say hello to me," Angela said abruptly, staring out at the trees. "He didn't even look at me."

I glanced at her, "He feels guilty, Angela. He dropped you and you wound up in hospital. You need to talk to him."

She nodded, "I know. I will..."

The rumble of engines brought us to attention. Soon, three large busses were rolling across the cobblestones around the turning circle. Each bus came to a halt with a shudder. They all had photos of dancers on them, stretching in a leap or an arabesque across the entire length of the bus. Words in metallic white lettering were printed by the dancer.

_The United States National Ballet Academy_

_In Association with the United States Ballet_

"They're all from the US Ballet?" I asked.

"Yes," he said distastefully. "Remember, you're representing your school."

"Yes sir," we replied, then went down the steps.

The door to the first bus hissed open as we approached, and a woman stepped out. She was tall with dark hair – pushed up into a bun, of course – dressed in a sharp white suit and white heels. Behind her came a man who was even taller, with a slight frame and a square jaw. Both of them looked to be in their forties.

"Hello," I said awkwardly as we walked up to them, "We're your guides for this evening."

The lady smiled politely and held out a hand, "Anna Cobbleton," she said as I took it, "Senior ballet mistress."

"Jeffrey Evans," said the man, "Academy Director."

"I'm Angela," she told him.

"And I'm Bella."

The Ballet Mistress looked sharply at me. "Bella Swan?"

I nodded. What? How did she know me?

She exchanged glances with the man, who was frowning. "You're the first year who's already seventeen?" He asked. There was an undertone of contempt in his voice...

"Yes," I replied blankly.

Angela was looking at me nervously, "Um, we should probably start heading inside."

Anna Cobbleton gave a plastic smile and got back into the bus. I heard her telling everyone to get off, but I didn't take much notice.

"May I ask how you know about me?" I said to the man.

"Oh," he shrugged, "We have various contacts with _Force de la Beauté. _Your case is very...interesting to us at the US Ballet."

"Interesting?" I repeated. I struggled to keep the lightness in my voice, "How so?"

He gave a sympathetic smile, "It's...a little odd to allow a seventeen year old dancer with limited experience into an elite academy, particularly when she has to be put in the first year group."

The Ballet Mistress came back out, and students in white, blue and red jackets began streaming out of the busses, giggling and chattering.

"Also on your part," the Director continued, "Surely you understand the risks of throwing your whole education away to dance?"

"To dance when I am past the correct age?" I verified stonily. Angela nudged me and we began to walk, leading the students behind us.

"Yes."

I stared straight ahead, "Dancing is my passion, Mister Evans. It is all I want to do."

A smirk crept across the lady's face. Jeffrey Evans cleared his throat, putting his hands behind his back, "It's funny, really, Miss Swan, because every other potential student who passes through my doors says the same thing; 'dancing is their passion'. But at the end of the day, my dear, all audiences want is a pretty, youthful face with sharp pirouettes and long arabesques. Take my advice," he said, slowing.

His students went on around him, following Anna Cobblestone. They glanced at me curiously as they passed. I looked back to their headmaster who stood in front of me. "You won't get far, Miss Swan. I know Carlisle Cullen has probably shouted some shit about you having amazing potential, but you don't. No one likes an old dancer. At the American Ballet you're already a laughing stock. Even Frank _Rebrevae _has been told not to bother watching performances with you as soloist."

He put a hand on my shoulder, staring into my eyes with sickening earnest, "Go back to wherever you came from. You're not going to make it."

I stared. Angela gripped my hand beside me, but I barely noticed. An inferno of thoughts, anger and curses, flamed in my head, but my words came out icy cold, "I don't care what you think, Mister Evans. I don't care what your theory books say. I don't care what tradition dictates. I don't even care about Frank Rebrevae's opinion of me." I smiled a smirk to match Lauren's. _Maybe there's something to learn from her..._ "Do you know why, sir?

"I wouldn't let my own students talk to me like this, Miss Swan," he said, as if in warning.

I ignored it, "You haven't seen me dance." Suddenly I was pulled back to my first day, sitting in the dorm for the first time, talking to Angela and Jessica and Lauren. I had said those same words then...and I said them now with even more conviction. I couldn't always put my trust in my friends, or my class, or my teachers, or even my own _feelings..._

...but I could put my trust in my ballet. Always.

I stood up taller, lifting my chin high. The wind toiled with my hair. Rain dotted my skin. "A great dancer told me that a person had no right to judge another dancer until he knew what they were capable of," Edward..._Edward..._his words lifted me higher, until I knew that I was right. I _knew _that I was being just... "Until you see me dance, Mister Evans, you have absolutely no right to judge me."

He was silent for a moment, staring down at me. "And when will that be?" He said slowly, "I have it under very good authority that you were booted out of the review we're watching tonight."

"And on whose authority would that be?"

He lifted his eyebrows, "Irina Denali's."

Many things fell into place at that moment. Just like yesterday, the image came into my head of Tanya walking into my rehearsal with Madame Cox. Of Madame Cox explaining to her that Doctor Hill had given me a 'silly' rest period, and that I had a great solo for the review. So Tanya was the one who told Master Carlisle?

I mentally kicked myself. Of _course _it had been Tanya! Who else knew who would do something like that? If I had been thinking better last night I would have known that straight away...

But she'd also told Irina...and Irina was now telling Frank Rebrevae and all the important people in the ballet world how bad I was...

"_Reputation is everything..."_

Angela was right; everything was a balance, and now the effects of _not _doing it outweighed the consequences _of _doing it. I couldn't let Irina and Tanya Denali win. I couldn't let my class down. I couldn't give up my dance. It was time to stop allowing other influences push me around. It was _my _dance.

I looked back to Mister Evans.

"Your informant has it wrong; I _will _be dancing tonight."

* * *

And so it begins...

Thanks very much for watching and reviewing my trailer, by the way! :D Link is on my profile, along with music playlists and loads of other stuff.

**Please review! :D**


	23. Chapter 23

Hello, my friends!

Before I say anything else, I would like to make a very important announcement:

**'Tiff', my esteemed rude critic, has revealed herself to be Tiffany, the 'Official Twilight Fanfiction Critic':**

_"I'm back... Anybody missed me! lol as many of you know I am Tiffany the official twilight fanfiction critic. I have read most of the AH twilight fanfic. To author: as I have said many times... Your a good writer but you take too long to update. Fans will lose interest if you keep taking months just to update one chapter. Trust me . If you have a regular schedule then your story will have much MORE hits... Yours truly , Tiffany the official twilight fanfiction critic. P.s, this is NOT a joke. You can check if I am legit or not."_

Agreed, some of the things you have said (losing fans, taking months to update, having a regular schedule) are true,

However:

Firstly, there's nothing official about Fanfiction, mes aime. Here, we're all under the law of 'Fair use', and that pretty much takes any 'officiality' or 'legitimacy' out of us.

Secondly, ever been in a natural disaster where you've lost your house? It's pretty emotionally draining, as well as expensive, stressful, and, above all, _time consuming. _My life is a bit of a shambles at the moment and _nothing _is scheduled. I know it's impossible to empathize, but it is possible to sympathise and be slightly accepting, oui? Writing is my passion. I try as hard as I can to get you chapters as soon as possible.

And thirdly: I did search you up, actually. Here's what I got: Your search - **"the official twilight fanfiction critic"** - did not match any documents.

You can check if you want. Google Search with quote marks.

Sorry to sound harsh, but honestly, if you review other people's work this rudely as well, then it really can't go on.

Anyway, what else is up?

I got smashed in the head with a hockey ball last night (not seriously; I don't even have a bruise...) :D Good fun, hockey. Almost as brutal as ballet :D

**Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**I wrote most of this chapter during the week, which is really odd for me, but I couldn't help it after I got your reviews! **

**Thanks!**

Okay, this was a really depressing author's note...I promise the next one will be fluffy bunnies and chocolates!

Oh thanks also to 'peace' who suggested this awesome song: Come Home by Snowpatrol. Anyone else who listens to a song a thinks it clicks with Clair de Lune, please flick me a message!

I love discovering new music!

Okay, please...

Review!

**And Enjoy!**

* * *

Jeffrey Evans just blinked and stormed into the Entrance Hall, snapping at his students to get out of the way.

I took a breath and began to go up the steps, when Angela suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Bella," she said incredulously, her eyes wide, "What the heck? You've been banned from dancing!"

I pulled my wrist away and began walking again, "I know," I said, "But Master Carlisle can't do anything once I'm on stage, can he?"

"But we already discussed this!" She said, hurrying to catch up with me. I stopped again, remembering that she didn't have a lot of energy. "Bella, I know that guy was a complete bastard, but really? He was just talking crap! You know what will happen if you dance tonight!"

I shook my head, "I don't care, Ange'. We're dancers. We live in the moment. I will do anything to dance this solo. I don't care about the consequences," I grasped her uninjured hand with both of my own. "Please, Ange'..." I said quietly, "Don't you understand?"

She gazed at me evenly, "I do. I really do. My mom asked me the other day if I wished I'd not done ballet. I mean, look where it's got me," she weakly lifted her cuffed arm. "And yet I don't regret it. I would give anything to be in those studios right now. Because I love it. I _love _that moment...that moment when you dance and the whole world seems perfect..." she sighed and shook her head, "I get it. I totally get it...but you at least need to _know _what the consequences are."

My impulses were racing in me, but it was important...Angela was right... "What are they, then?"

She turned and started walking slowly up the steps, "At best, Master Carlisle will see you dancing and think you're marvellous and he'll begin a Bella Swan appreciation page..." she pushed her hair off her face, "At worst you could risk a discussion about your place in _Force."_

"That's not likely," I pointed out. We were in the entrance hall now, following the massive group of US Ballet dancers down to the room where they were allowed to put their bags. We stopped by the staircase and sat on the bottom step.

"But it's possible."

"But it's also possible that Irina Denali has spread rumours across the whole damned ballet world and that I'm just going to finish _Force _and not have any company to go to. I _have _to do this. I have to prove myself to Irina and that idiot Jeffrey Evans. I have to prove it to everyone here because they all think I'm some stupid girl who picks fights with Tanya Denali and tries to get in with Edward Masen...I have to prove it to my_self. _That I'm not too old for this. That everything Jeffrey Evans just said about me is entirely false. This is my solo, Ange'.My dance. I have a right to perform it."

She stared at me for a long time. "There's still one last problem," she said eventually.

"What is it?

"The dance isn't solely yours, Bella."

It took a second for it to click into place...my class, "You're right," I said quietly. "I have to ask them."

Angela raised an eyebrow, "They might say no."

I shrugged, acting more nonchalant than I felt, "I can't do this dance without them. I'd look a bit stupid trying to burst out from a circle of nothing." I smiled sadly, "I just hope they'll say yes."

"And Madame Cox?"

I grinned, "I think she's as much of a rebel as me at heart."

Angela laughed, "We still shouldn't let her know about it. That way she can say she didn't know anything if Master Carlisle asks."

"Agreed," I said, then stood up, pulling her up with me.

"You're _sure_ you want to do this?" She asked.

I nodded, "Certain."

\*\*/*/

"And five six seven eight...come on! More!"

Madame Cox's voice bounced down the corridor from Studio Eight. We could hear other teachers and other music, but Madame Cox stood out through them all. Angela and I exchanged a glance, "She sounds stressed."

I smiled grimly, "Wonder why..."

"Those legs need to go higher!" Madame Cox called out as we burst into the door.

The piano came to a halt. Our class seemed to sink down from their various poses and pirouettes. They stared at us.

"What are you two doing here?" Asked Madame Cox, her scowl more pronounced than usual.

"Master Rodriguez's class, ma'am," said Angela, doing a good job of panted breath, "Come see! It's really important!"

"Why?" She asked, a little more alert, "What's he got up his sleeve now?"

"Come see," Angela repeated. "And Mister Woolston, too; they're doing this thing with the music..."

I held the door open as Madame Cox and Mister Woolston suspiciously followed her out. My class made to get out as well.

"There's nothing to see!" I said quickly, "We just needed her out of the way."

"What the Hell?" Said Megan.

"What are you doing, Bella?" Ben muttered. Eliza and Violet were on either side of him, looking at me warily.

I suddenly realized the danger of my situation. I was in a room full of tired, pissed off dancers who already hated me...I nervously made my way to the front of the class. "I have something to say."

"I think we're all beyond caring," said Tyler, sitting down against one of the mirrors.

"Please...just let me talk."

"Why should we?" Said Jessica.

I looked her up and down. Her usual lip gloss had worn off, and her hair was a mess of whispies and loose bobby pins.

"How's the dance going?" I asked quietly.

"Pretty crappily, actually," said Abigail. "But that's probably because our soloist decided she was going to ditch us just a few hours ago."

I swallowed stiffly, "What if I had a way to remedy that?"

Lauren, standing at the back of the studio again, raised an eyebrow at me. It was odd; the one person I despised more than anyone else in this class was the one person who was likely to support me. She knew that my admitting to _her _bitchiness had affected Master Carlisle's decision to ban me from the review.

Lauren narrowed her eyes, "What are you getting at, Bella?"

I looked at my class. They were going to hate me even more..."I want to do my solo."

They went silent. Eliza stared at me, frowning. Tyler hung his head back against the glass. Abigail, Selene and Jane exchanged incredulous glances. Ben just stared down at his hands.

Lauren stepped forward from the barre, folding her arms over her plain black leo, "You really want to break Master Carlisle's rule? You, goody-two-shoes Bella?"

"I do, Lauren," I said quietly.

"And you're asking us to let you break this rule? When we could get punished for breaking it?"

The class finally murmured at that. "I will take all the blame," I said. "I'll tell Master Carlisle I ran on stage at the last moment and that you guys could do nothing to stop me."

"That'll make it even worse for you," she stated.

I shrugged, "If I'm going to break the rules I might as well do a good job of it."

"And what's to say we even want you doing this solo?" She challenged.

"That's why I'm asking," I said, looking at everyone. "This dance is only one twentieth mine...and I've acted like it was all mine..." I took a deep breath. How could I play this...which words could I say to make them agree...? But maybe that was it; I had to speak the truth. I had to be plain... "I shouldn't have played you guys the way I did. I came up with the second solo because of hurt pride...and I asked Madame Cox to put me in without thinking about you guys. I figured that if I only changed my own choreography, it wouldn't matter to you."

I sighed, "But clearly not. And then because of that, I rehearsed when I was told not to and I let someone – " _Tanya Denali... _" – see me and now I've changed the dance twice because of my own interests and mistakes."

"And you want to change it a third time?" Scoffed Megan. "Seriously?"

I shook my head, "It's in my interests to change it. You have no idea how much I want this solo...but this time it has to be in _your _interests, too."

Eliza was nodding slowly, "So if we think your solo will help us to win, then we'll say yes."

"Exactly," I said. "If that's what your interest is."

She glanced around. People nodded, confirming it.

"But who says your solo will help us to win?" Said Megan.

"On Thursday you told me that it was easier when I danced my solo because all you had to do was make me look pretty."

Eliza sighed, "We didn't mean that, Bella."

I nodded, "Maybe not, but it's still true that it's easier. I've put more hours into my solo than you guys have into any of the three versions."

"Well that wasn't exactly our fault," snapped Megan, "Someone kept changing them, didn't they?"

"We've been over that, Megan," said Lauren, rolling her eyes.

Megan sent her a death glare, "Since when have you been Miss Supportive?"

"I'm not," she snarled back, "I'm just being realistic, Megan." She walked forward, presiding over our worn classmates. "We know that what we're doing at the moment isn't good enough. There is nothing special to it. It's just like ordinary combinations with fake smiling and overdone costumes. Master Rodriguez's class has a Pas de Deux in theirs. They're using popular music. They're taking _risks. _And at the moment those risks are going to pay off...unless we start taking some, too."

"Risks like letting Bella dance," said Violet, as if just realizing it.

Lauren looked at me distastefully, "I don't like it, but she's the only interesting thing we've got at short notice. We can act like snobs about this, but really, Bella's going to be the controversial part of our dance."

Ryan snorted, "'Controversial's' putting it mildly. She's breaking Master _Carlisle's _rules."

Lauren shrugged, "Who gives? So long as Bella sticks to her honourable little word, we're not gonna get any blame. You can take the hit, can't you, _Bells?" _She said mockingly.

I smirked, "Yeah I can, Lauren; unlike you."

She gave me a dangerous look. Oh yeah, she _was _feeling vulnerable...

"Oh come on, guys," said Eliza, "We need to make a decision before Madame Cox and Mister Woolston get back."

"Vote!" Violet squealed, standing up.

I stepped off to the side as she bounded up to the front. Lauren returned to her place at the back barre.

"Alright, all those in favour of sticking with the current version?"

My stomach clenched as I watched Ryan's hand go up. Then Megan's. Then Jessica's. Then Ted's...

"That all?" Said Violet. "Okay then..." she turned to grin at me, "All those in favour of Bella doing the solo?"

She shot her hand up first. Eliza's hand went up just after, and then Ben's and Tyler's. After a quick whispered conversation, Selene, Abigail and Jane put their hands up. The other boys gradually did so, as well. Mike, who'd been half-hiding by the piano, hesitantly put his up.

Last was Lauren. She smirked as we all stared at her, enjoying the attention, no doubt.

"I don't make amazingly convincing speeches if I'm not going to agree with them," she said, finally raising her hand.

Oh God...I was going to do it...I was going to dance...I was doing it...

"Yay! Majority rules!" Said Violet, giving my frozen body a hug, "It's on!"

"We don't have much time," warned Eliza. "We don't even have time to rehearse it. And how are we going to get Bella into her costume and hair and makeup without anyone seeing?"

"Yeah," said Abigail, "Our costumes are in our dressing rooms, but we didn't bring yours. If you can find it, we can hide it with ours."

"Where would it be?" I asked.

She shrugged, "Wardrobe Department? You won't be able to get in there, though."

"I'll find a way," I assured her.

"And what about whatever you're doing with Master Hinde?" Said Ben.

"And Madame Esme?" Said Tyler. "She's gonna be roaming backstage at all times..."

The door opened, and Madame Cox stormed back in, followed by Mister Woolston and Angela, both looking meekly at the floor.

"Damned Rodriguez!" Our teacher exclaimed, raking her fingers over the top of her head. "What we're doing is _not _good enough, people!" She said, turning on the class. "They look ecstatic! They look like that Coolplay or whatever it's called is the best blasted thing that's ever happened to them! Their entire dance _reeks _of symbolism!" She suddenly caught sight of me, "You! Go! We only have ten more minutes and I'm afraid there's no time for those not involved!" She began to count in Mister Woolston.

I flashed a quick grin to my class, who all waved back enthusiastically – I wondered whether Madame Cox had been like this for a while now – and hurried out the door with Angela at my side.

"Well?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

I just grinned at her and gave her a hug. "I'm doing it!"

"Yes!" She squeaked. I pulled back, realizing I was probably hurting her arm.

"Okay," I said, trying to breathe normally, "We need to find a way for me to get dressed without anyone noticing."

"You can't exactly go walking around in a full size classical tutu, Bella!"

"But we have to at least get it out of the costume department."

"Well you can't just walk up to Master Carlisle and ask for the keys..."

"This is gonna be problematic..." I didn't even have any idea where the costume department _was_...

"_I've already finished making my class's costumes..."_

"Alice," I said quietly.

Angela frowned, "Alice Brandon?"

I nodded, "She makes costumes. She must know how to get access to the wardrobe."

"Where do we find her?"

I hesitated...would Alice even want to help me now? After I'd walked away from her table at breakfast? I just couldn't _stand _to have the delusion reinforced...I had vowed this morning to starve that part of myself out...but this was important. My class was relying on me. I couldn't let them down again.

"I have no idea..." I said, "I guess she'll be in one of the studios, but they're all moving out soon, aren't they? To get to their dressing rooms?"

"Yeah. We'd better get started."

So looked in through every studio door. Some teachers saw us and gave us furious looks as we'd interrupted their last minute preparations. We passed Master Rodriguez's class. "What were they really like?" I asked Angela.

"Just as Madame Cox described," she told me unhappily, "They looked perfect."

"There's no such thing as perfect in First Year ballet," I said nervously.

She laughed, "Hopefully not...hey is that her?"

I looked through the door window. There was Alice, along with Jasper, Emmett and Rose and the rest of their class, all performing a beautiful, skittering dance with garlands of roses. The men all bowed as the ladies did their parts, and then the ladies curtsied as the men did theirs. It was like the Sleeping Beauty waltz, but a little more teasing. I watched as Alice and Rosalie frolicked into the middle and hooked their garlands over Jasper and Emmett's waists, pulling them towards one another. They laughed and smiled as they did it. The only damper was the space between the two pairs. The space which wouldn't have been there if I hadn't gone and screwed things up...

The dance ended with the ladies linking up their garlands and the men on one knee in front of them, offering their hands.

"Alright! Pack up, Monsieurs and Mademoiselles! We are running late!" My eyes shot to the teacher.

"Shit!" I whispered, ducking out of sight of the window. Angela was right with me. Master Carlisle... "Oh God...we need to hide..."

But the door had already opened, and Master Carlisle and the class all walked out. Angela and I mashed ourselves against the wall, hoping no one would decide to turn left instead of right. Thankfully, they were all headed for the stairs. Alice came out last, still putting her shoes into her bag.

"Alice!" I said, popping out from behind the door.

"Holy shit!" She shrieked, dropping the bag on the floor. "Jesus you two!" She gasped, picking it up again. She looked at us. "Angela?" She said. "Oh my God!" She grabbed her hand and shook it, "So good to see you're okay! I'm Alice, by the way."

"Right," said Angela with a grin.

Alice then turned to me, "You." She said.

Oh no. She didn't want to see me...

"Would you care to explain to me..." she reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out her phone, "what _this _is?"

I looked at the screen.

_Tanya 1.00 pm, Sunday_

_Hey Guys wev just gotten into JFK. Eddie and i are V excited! Soz bout the review but u no USB waits 4 no1! Oh nd tell bella im sorry to hear bout her ban from her solo. Shame XD. Luv Tanya and Eddie._

Great, now I had confirmation of her involvement...that horrible selfish bitch...

"'Ban from the solo'?" Alice quoted. "What the hell, Bella?"

"It's a long story," I said quickly, recovering.

"She's doing it," Angela added, which only made Alice's frown deepen.

"Look," I said, "I'll explain it all, but we really need your help."

"Sure..." she said suspiciously,

I took a deep breath, "Any chance you have access to the Costume Department?"

Her eyes narrowed, "What are you guys up to?"

"I'm doing my solo..." I bit my lip, "Just not quite legally."

Alice sighed and shook her head, "Well at least you've got some spirit in you this evening..."

We began walking. Alice dropped her phone back into her pocket, "Edward didn't sign that text, by the way."

"I know," I murmured. I didn't need this conversation...not now...

But thankfully Alice was more curious about my solo, "So what's this all about?"

"Well you know last night..."

I recounted to Alice an edited version, saying that Master Carlisle had banned me from the review because Tanya had dobbed me in, and that I'd had a change of heart and I'd decided to break the rules and do the solo anyway. I had tried to keep Irina and Tanya's intentions out of it, but Alice soon caught on.

"You know why Tanya's so worried, right, Bella?" She said as we headed down one of the back corridors away from the Entrance Hall. I could hear the chattering of the schools and guests in the Dining Hall. I was glad they hadn't asked us to eat; the nerves were beginning to rise up in me.

"Please, Alice," I said quietly, "I don't want to talk about it."

She sighed, but said no more.

Through the wind of corridors we went, until we got to a large double door.

_Wardrobe_

_Authorized access only_

Alice took out her key and unlocked it. "Prepare to be amazed," she said with a grin.

She opened it and flicked a few switches.

The strip lights blinked on row by row, lighting up more and more of what was a truly massive room.

"There must be _thousands _of costumes in here," said Angela as we both stared in awe.

Alice nodded, "There abouts."

It could've been millions. At least ten aisles were separated by racks and racks of colourful costumes. Tulle from romantic tutus stuck out here and there, along with boy's tunics. Crowns and tiaras were placed on shelves on the back wall.

On the other half of the room, there were four big tables and a work bench with sewing machines and dying tubs and ironing boards. Bodices were placed here and there with bits of fabric stuck to them with pins.

"Alright," Alice laughed, "Stop gawping; time is of the essence!"

Angela frowned, "Where are the classical tutus, though?"

Alice smiled at her, "Look up."

We did. The whole ceiling was concealed by what must have been _hundreds _of tutus, in every colour imaginable, hanging upside down like bright poofy lily pads.

"Now which one's yours?" Asked Alice, as Angela and I stared up at them.

"Blue," I said, but the description was horribly inadequate. "Royal blue."

We began searching, our necks craning back.

"This isn't it, is it?" Said Alice, over in one corner of the room.

We went over. I recognized it immediately.

"That's it."

"How ironic," she muttered, grabbing a stool.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well..." she reached up and unhooked it, then handed it down to me. I felt the now familiar scratch of tulle. "This tutu was made for Tanya Denali in her first year."

I looked down at the intricate golden beading, like tiny golden raindrops on the deep blue tulle. Tanya had danced in this? "It doesn't...it doesn't seem like hers," I said, trying to imagine Tanya, with her dark blonde hair and tanned skin, wearing this tutu.

Alice nodded, "I think she only wore it once before handing it over to the wardrobe. She said it didn't work with Edward."

I gave a dry smile, "Perfect for me, then."

Alice gave me a reprimanding look, before taking the tutu from my hands and wiggling out the hanger. "Okay, I need to go now. Master Carlisle's gonna be wondering where I've got to, and we can't make him suspicious. The passage on the left leads to the theatre. It passes the dressing rooms. Make sure you don't get seen with this thing, 'kay?"

She gave me back the tutu, but didn't let go, fixing me with her big eyes, "We're all behind you on this one, Bella. All of us. Good luck."

And then she turned and left.

"Alright," said Angela, "We need to get going. In one hour you'll be on stage."

* * *

_Tanya..._

This update is actually just half a chapter. I couldn't post the whole thing because it was very long, which is why this update is kind of insubstantial in some respects.

So the next update is almost finished already (first time ever!), so pleeease...

**Let me know what you think! Review!**


	24. Chapter 24

Hi again!

As promised, here is the second half of the chapter! So happy to get this out to you!

Alright, I know you're going to want an update really soon, but I do have to further by education tomorrow and actually leave my little world of coffee, ballet, and the cat which is currently...no! Silly girl!...currently trying to drink said coffee.

Consequently, I won't be posting as quickly as I did today. I will be trying as hard as I can to get it out to you ASAP, though! That's what English class is for - instead of being subjected to hours of 'and this small freckle on the left side of Fred's nose represents the innocence which is blah blah blah...' - I've started writing up the agenda for the next chapter.

Much more fun :D And somehow I still get decent marks at the end...

**Thanks very much for the reviews! **

**Heh, I was almost thinking of leaving it a day or two to stew, but you made me feel guilty...hehe...**

**Seriously, thanks so much!**

Okay, enough talking. This chapter had me the most nervous out of all the chapters I've written. Looking at the times and realizing it was getting nearer...

One hour to go...

Please review

**and Enjoy!**

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to my father, who hasn't actually read this (thank God), but who I had a very funny and loud debate with about the mechanics of cliffhangers. I won, though. I had JK Rowling on my side..._

* * *

We turned the lights out and went into the corridor, going to the left as Alice had told us. The passages were narrow down here, and we had to carefully manoeuvre the stiff tulle through it. Soon we began seeing numbers on the doors. Voices of students chattering excitedly behind them. A group of second year boys hurried past. "I can't believe you forgot your boots _again, _David!" Said one of them. They took no notice of us, pressed against the wall with a bright blue tutu between us. We kept going.

"We need to find our dressing room," I said.

"Mister Collins, take those sunglasses off!" Came the unmistakeable voice of Madame Esme. We heard her heels coming around the corner.

"Crap!" We whispered as one, then dived through the nearest door.

"Shit!" Yelled a guy's voice. We spun round to see Ben Cheney, along with several others, in nothing but his boxers.

"Angela?" He said in surprise.

"Sorry!" She breathed, just as there was a knock on the door.

"Gentlemen, Master Carlisle will be taking warm up in five minutes, oui?"

I tried to quit breathing, but I could hear the boys struggling to not laugh.

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan got out eventually.

"Vite!" Said Madame Esme, before her heels clicked back down the corridor.

"Sorry," Angela whispered breathlessly as we both stared at the floorboards.

Ryan and Tyler snickered, "The girls are next door."

"Right," I said, opening the door.

But Angela didn't follow. "Ben?" She said quietly.

I looked around at her suddenly earnest face. No...she wasn't going to have that conversation _now, _was she?

She took a step towards him, "I just wanted to say good luck."

Mike and I exchanged incredulous, albeit amused looks.

"Thanks," he said, looking down at her nervously. Admittedly he did have a nice six pack, but that was besides the point... "Angela..." he reached out and took her uninjured hand, "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," she said, squeezing his hand. "It was a mistake which was bound to happen, considering what we were doing."

"I still dropped you," he mumbled.

Angela shook her head and brought a hand to his cheek.

The boys made retching noises, and I laughed along with them. But secretly, something ached in my chest. They were looking at each other nervously, but there was something there. Some kind of warmth they took from each other...

"Good luck," she whispered again, then pecked him on the cheek.

The boys went up in wolf whistles and clapping. Angela blushed, gave him the shiest smile I'd ever seen, and quickly pushed past me out the door.

Ben looked star struck. I bit my lip to stop from grinning, and quickly left.

Angela was a bit further down the corridor, leaning against a wall, her hand pressed against her lips. "Oh my God."

I nodded, trying, _trying _not to laugh, "I know; Jockey boxers. I was surprised, too. I thought he was more a Bonds guy."

She shot me a glare before throwing her arms around me, giggling.

I returned the hug, patting her on the back.

"I love him!" She squeaked into my shoulder. "He's so sweet!"

I could have gone on laughing forever, but I soon heard another group of people coming round the corner. Quickly, we knocked on the next door down from the boys – we could still hear congratulations coming through the walls.

"Yeah?" Came Abigail's voice.

We went in. Most of the girls were already dressed in their light blue tutus, and were fixing up their buns.

"Well finally," muttered Megan as Violet and Eliza grabbed the tutu from my hands and stored it under the dressing table.

"You still have to do your hair," said Eliza, "And where are your tights and stuff?"

"Crap!" I said – it seemed to be the word of the night. "And my shoes..." I took a breath. "I'll be right back."

I hurried back out and down the various passages, praying I didn't get lost. But I was lucky, and was soon back in the Entrance Hall.

"Carlisle!" I heard Jeffrey Evan's slimy voice. I was just about to reach the stairs, but I ducked back behind the banister.

Master Carlisle strode across the Entrance Hall, "Jeffrey, how are you?"

Past the wooden figure of a ballerina in _attitude, _I saw the two men shake hands.

"I am well, thank you," Jeffrey Evans replied, "Though I am told the stars of your academy will not be performing tonight?"

Master Carlisle nodded, "Yes, it is rather unfortunate, though I believe there will be plenty more talent to entertain you."

Jeffrey Evans gave a greasy smile, "I am sure. Only an hour ago I had the privilege of speaking to one of your first years."

Oh no...oh _no..._

"Oh yes, which one?"

"A brunette. She was very excited about dancing in the review tonight – "

"Master Carlisle!" I shouted out suddenly. _Crap..._I quickly came out from behind the banister. Master Carlisle turned and looked at me in surprise. "Um..." come on...come _on... _"Madame Esme says it's time for the warm up! She told me to come get you..."

He frowned, "Excuse me, Jeffrey."

The director gave me a deadly glare before turning on his heel and marching back into the Dining Hall.

"Miss Swan," said Master Carlisle, coming towards me, "may I ask that you do not interrupt my conversations so rudely in the future?"

"Sorry, sir," I said meekly.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he reached me, looking at my flustered face.

I nodded hurriedly, "Yes sir, I'm fine."

He frowned once again, looking down at me with those sharp, perceptive eyes. "I am sorry, Miss Swan," he said softly, "Sorry that you could not dance tonight. I know it is difficult to watch your friends do what you love to do."

I nodded, "It's fine, sir." Oh, how guilty I felt... "It's just one performance."

He smiled, "Quite right...anyway, I'd best get to the theatre. I will make sure Master Hinde lets you at least watch the show, oui?"

"Thank you, sir," I said, wondering if he'd ever say anything nice to me again after what I was about to do.

"Bonne fille," he said, patting me on the shoulder, then went past me.

As soon he was gone, I started up the stairs, charging up two at a time. Guilt coursed through me, but I knew I couldn't back down. My class would _kill _me. And I would regret it...

By the time I reached the my dorm, I was breathing heavily, but I detachedly thought that my fitness had improved since I'd arrived here – I remembered the fatigue I'd had trying to pull my suitcase up the stairs when I'd arrived.

I quickly pulled on Alice's white tights underneath my skirt, and then pulled my boots back on. I looked like an idiot, wearing a tartan skirt and white ballet tights, but it didn't matter. Then I grabbed my shoe bag and went back down to the Entrance Hall. The time was five to. I still had to hair and makeup...

"Miss Swan! Where have you been?"

Master Hinde was standing at the theatre door with the others who weren't dancing. Angela stood beside them, looking at me guiltily. I walked over, dread in every fibre of me. "Sorry sir...I was just...grabbing my friend's pointe shoes. She's forgotten them."

He raised his eyebrow. _Just let me go...let me go and 'give' them to 'her'...let me go... _

"The school is in warm ups at the moment, Miss Swan," he said, "You can take them to her after you're done here. Who is she?"

"Uh...Eliza Richardson. Sir, I really think she needs them for the warm up..."

"Well it's her fault for not bringing them, isn't it?" He said, "This is a competition – class organisation is of course a factor of success."

I bit my cheek to stop from shouting out a long list of profanities at him.

"Alright, the warm up is ending very soon. We have five minutes to get the programmes. In another five minutes, we'll be asking the audience to take their seats. Miss Swan and Miss Blakely, you will be here handing out programmes. The rest of you will be in the theatre along with a few of the teachers, showing people to their seats."

Angela and I stared at each other. No. This couldn't happen...

"Alright, ushers you need to go in and get familiar with the seating arrangements, Miss Swan and Miss Blakely, we'll go and get the programmes." He began heading down to the teacher's offices.

Angela grabbed my hand, "What are we going to do?"

I gulped, "Don't worry. I'll find a way..." I felt almost sick. I wasn't going to see Angela again before I performed. _If _I performed...

"Good luck, Bella," she said, and gave me a quick hug. "Find a way, 'kay?"

I nodded and hurried after Master Hinde.

I watched the clock above the Entrance Hall door as I passed piles of programmes to the girl with the hip problem. Six fifty-five. Six fifty-six. Six fifty-seven. Six fifty-eight. At six fifty-nine, sixteen minutes before Master Carlisle made the opening speech, the audience – the academies and benefactors and local ballet schools – came noisily into the foyer.

The girl and I stood on either side of the doors, handing each person a shiny silver programme with the crest of Marcus Vigernon on the front. I tried to smile. I tried to tell myself that I had time. That I had to be calm...

The US Ballet Academy students giggled at me as they passed. "She's the one who flirted with Edward Masen," whispered one girl, but I still heard.

Another boy had even less manners. He smirked at me as I gave him his programme, "So even _Force de la Beauté _doesn't think you're good enough to dance, huh?"

I gave him my most poisonous look, but my nerves were thrumming in me, and I couldn't do it justice.

"Idiot," said the guy behind him. It took me a second to realize he wasn't talking to me, but to the guy from USB. He was wearing a black fitted t-shirt with _Aro_ _Colaianni Academy of Dance _printed on it in white capitals.

I smiled at him as he took a programme, which he returned.

"Ah Jake, always a lady charmer," said his friend behind him, winking at me.

The small interlude gave me a few seconds of relief, but soon I was looking at the clock again. Twelve past. Thirteen past. Fourteen past. Most of the audience had gotten through. It couldn't be long now...

Jeffrey Evans snatched a programme from me, "I thought you said you were dancing, Miss Swan?" He said with cold amusement.

"I will be," I snarled back.

His ballet mistress, Anna Cobbleton, took a programme with an equally sickening look.

It was quarter past seven. Master Carlisle would be about to start his speech...there was no one else in the Entrance Hall...

I looked to Master Hinde, who was standing next to the other girl, "Sir, can I please take the shoes now?"

"No," he said, "There are still people to come in."

"There's no one here, sir," I said. "Please, just let me go."

"No, Miss Swan. And have a care not to speak in that particular tone to a senior member of staff."

"Sir, my friend can't go on without her shoes," I said pleadingly.

"That is her fault. You are to stay here in _silence."_

So I stood. Time ticked by. One or two people did come to the doors, but they did not need _me _there for that! I heard through the doors Master Carlisle making the opening lines of his speech. Seven sixteen. Seven seventeen. Seven eighteen.

"Please, sir..." I whispered.

He shook his head. Seven nineteen.

"_Performances will open with Madame Cox's first year class at approximately seven thirty..."_

No...no no no! This was _not _going to happen!

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, snatching up my shoe bag. And I ran. Right down the Entrance Hall, the soles of my boots slapping on the hard floor.

"Miss Swan!" Came Master Hinde's startled cry.

I kept running. The door was just there...

"You'll be punished for this!"

I shoved through it. The network of passages lay in front of me once again. I charged through them, my shoe bag swinging dangerously in my hand. I seemed to count the minutes in my head. Seven twenty-one...seven twenty-two...

I burst into the girl's dressing room. No one was there. Quickly, I yanked up my hair, snatching a hairbrush from the table and dragging it through. I fished my hair things out of my shoe bag. I realized my hands were shaking as I shoved bobby pins into the swirl and covered it with a hair net. Then I quickly put on foundation and eyeliner. It was nowhere near perfect, but it would make sure my colour wasn't drained by the stage lights. I put on a dash of blue liquid eye shadow. Oh God...oh God I was late...oh God I was going to _do _this...

I pulled off my t-shirt and boots and skirt, and pulled out the tutu from under the table. Through the tiny speaker in the corner of the ceiling, I heard the faint voice of a lady announcing that she was the head of the board, and about the high quality of _Force _dancers and such. _High quality..._I swallowed and stepped into the panties of the tutu, pulling it up until the tutu stuck out around my waist.

The door opened. "Miss Swan!" Came an exclamation.

I spun round. Madame Cox stood there, a bundle of leg warmers and jackets in her arms. I noticed Eliza's stripy socks on top.

"Madame Cox..." I said.

"What are you doing?" She asked weakly.

"I'm..."

"No," she said quickly, a sudden smile lighting up her face, "I haven't seen anything."

I blanked a moment, "No..." a smile of my own came to my lips, "And I haven't seen you, either."

She laughed, putting a hand to her mouth, "Indeed not..." quickly, she dropped the pile of clothes on a chair and gestured for me to turn around. She skilfully clasped the bodice together as I breathed in, then turned me back around, her hands on my shoulders, looking me up and down proudly. Then she shook her head, "You have your teacher's support, Miss Swan. Her support and her awe. Let that bolster your confidence."

I nodded shakily, "Thank you, ma'am."

She dropped her hands from my shoulders. "It's seven thirty-two, Miss Swan. I would hate for you to be late to...whatever you're doing. Oh, and just for future reference, remember your extensions need to be long, and keep your chin up." She gave me one last smile and left, clicking the door shut behind her.

I took a deep breath. There was only one thing left to do.

I pulled my pointe shoes out of my bag. The same thought from earlier came to me as I crossed the satin ribbons over one another. I couldn't always trust my friends, or my class, or my teachers, or my thoughts...but I could trust my ballet. I _had _to trust my ballet...

I tied the second knot and stood up straight. I flexed my shoes back and forth. I échappéd up and down a few times. This was it...this was it...I took a breath. And then ran out the door.

I knew that classes would still be in their dressing rooms. I hurried round the corner, and almost crashed into two senior girls. "Sorry!" I whispered as they glared at me. At least the whole school didn't know I was breaking the rules...

I pushed through another class who were convening in the corridor. "What the hell?" They exclaimed.

I hurried on.

Soon I rounded another corner, and suddenly there it was. The stage door. Taking another breath, I pushed through it.

I suddenly entered a different world, quiet and suspenseful. Backstage crew dressed in black crept around the pulleys and other equipment. Everyone was silent, knowing that beyond the shut curtain, there were hundreds of people, judging their every act. A dry ice machine was pumping out fog on the lowest setting, so that the lights would show up in the air more.

"...and I would just like to give another big thank you to our sponsors and..." Emmett's voice came from the stage. Of course! He was the compeer for the night.

"Bella!" Came a hiss. Alice emerged out of the darkness, her eyes big and nervous, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Your class is in the wings. I've had Emmett stall the whole speech thing, but he's running out of ideas. Be careful, Mistress Esme's up there, too. Mister Woolston's already at the piano. Ms Gerran's turning the pages. The musician watches the dancer, but everyone's getting finicky. Master Carlisle might just ask him to start. You better hurry."

I nodded, swallowing.

"Don't worry," Alice said, "You're going to be fine. I'll go tell Emmett to wrap it up."

I felt sick, but I hurried on. The wires on the floor made it difficult.

I couldn't see Emmett – he must have been on stage in front of the curtain.

"What the Hell is he doing?" Came a French voice. No! No not now... "Somebody get him off."

I could see Madame Esme's form back lit by the stage lights. She was standing in one of the wings.

In the wing in front of hers, though, was half of my class. I hurried in, tapping Abigail on the shoulder. "Bella!" She whispered. The rest of them all turned, relief dormant on their made up faces.

"And without further ado," Emmett said, "Here is our first performance; All of Me, performed by Madame Cox's class with soloist Bella Swan!"

"What on Earth?" Madame Esme hissed from somewhere nearby...wait, she was too close...though they were muffled, I could still hear her heels on the floor. Oh no...oh God. "Miss Swan? What are you – "

"Go Bella, go!" Said someone from my class.

Madame Esme grabbed at my wrist. I wrenched it from her grip and surged onto the stage.

\*\*/*/

Everything seemed to be suspended for a single second.

The tips of my toes were pressed against the inner lining of my shoe.

My arm was stretched forward, my fingers reaching.

One leg was lifted behind me, the other stood straight, supporting me.

The blue and white stage lights glared down at me, warming my cheeks.

My nerves thrummed in me.

I was here. I was on the stage of _Force de la Beauté. _I had never imagined that this was possible...not when I had stood on the cobblestone driveway with my suitcase, staring up at _Force _for the first time...

The piano began.

The curtain rose.

And everything seemed to change. The dance I had rehearsed so many times...the meaning behind it had changed. For now here I was, in front of hundreds of people. This dance was no longer a story of discovery for myself. It was showing _them_ who I used to be...who I now was...It was proving it to them. That was why I was here. To prove myself.

I lifted my face up to the lights, shutting my eyes as I languished in them. _Who I used to be..._

The piano notes rolled down, and so did I, leaning forward until my leg was almost in a straight line with my other one. My breath flowed in and out slowly. This was what was possible...what I could become...but it seemed too unlikely...I lifted up again, and came off my pointes.

As the piano softly encouraged me, I began to move, step turning downstage, and then spinning in a slow, experimental pirouette. As if I wasn't sure...as if I didn't know if I could do it...but it was beginning to dawn. I could see a new world opening up on the horizon. Ballet. Beauty. Everything...

And I was walking towards it, my hand reaching for it. It was entrancing...

And I was at the gates, at the end of the stage, looking out at the darkened audience. Those people who didn't believe in me. Who thought it was impossible for me to enter into that world.

But now I believed in myself...I was sure of myself.

I curtsied, but it went lower than usual, until I was on one knee, my hand lightly floating to my heart. I recognized their cynicism. I recognized their doubts.

But I was no longer afraid of the possibilities. I was no longer afraid of showing my joy.

As the piano faded off its final soft lilt, I glided back up to standing, raising my head high.

I was Bella Swan.

And nothing, _nothing_ could change that.

The first note, sharp and loud, rang out across the theatre.

And I was in! Spinning in fast pirouettes, exhilaration rushing through me as I let myself be taken in by that world.

I sensed Lauren and Megan come in on either side of me, set back a little, and a smile broke out across my face as we spun together. Yes! This was so right!

More notes were added, more of my friends came in behind me.

Faster and faster we went, until the piano burst out into the melody, and I went with it, leaping through the air and landing straight into a pirouette, feeling so free! And I began weaving through the others, as if I was telling them of my happiness, too. They échappéd quickly up to their pointes and back down to flat as I circled around them. I glimpsed Eliza's grin as I spun past her into the middle of the group.

And then the ten of us advanced forward as one, tiptoeing downstage, our right arms rising up in front of us. I watched as my hand uncurled to the very tips of my fingers, gesturing to some place high above us. I smiled again. We were dancers. We were girls...we were happy.

And as the light harmony ended and the forceful bass notes came, the boys entered and we disappeared into the wings. I was breathing heavily, but I didn't bother worrying. Excitement coursed through me. We were doing this! We hurried to the front wing again, ready for our next entrance. I watched the boys with awe as they leapt high. They looked so strong, so focussed...they were no longer boys, but men.

I smiled as Ben performed a tour jete. As Madame Cox had requested, they were all shirtless in black tights and light blue sashes. I hoped Angela was watching...

Eliza began counting us in under her breath, "Five six seven eight..." The others went in before me, fleeting on in front of the boys' lines.

Taking a deep breath, I got ready to enter. _Step to pointe, then developpe out into a leap, _I reminded myself. But as I stepped up onto my right pointe, my body was suddenly pushed forward.

And I was falling, my ankle twisting underneath me.

The audience gasped.

I hit the stage floor with a dull thud.

\*\*/*/

Oh sweet _God! _A sob wracked from my throat. My ankle seared with red hot pain.

How? How had this happened? This couldn't happen...this was my solo...my dance...no!

With a grunt, I pushed myself back up to standing, my weight heavily on my left leg.

I could hear the audience whispering incredulously.

All those people I had to prove myself to...I had to do this...I _had_ to do this...

I listened to the music for a split second, and went up into the pirouettes I was meant to be performing. _Shit! _My ankle crumpled under me, twisting again.

No...no I had to go on!

"What the hell is she doing?" Said someone from offstage as I went into an arabesque with my left foot. It wasn't so bad...but I was going too slowly – I was out of time with the music. I had to lead everyone into the spiral...I didn't have time to change feet.

_Ignore it. There's no pain. You're fine..._

I took a shallow breath and set off in a series of leaps and twirls, glissades and tour jetes. Pain stabbed at me with every movement. I bit my tongue hard as I échappéd, drawing blood. I almost felt sick...I couldn't throw up, could I? That didn't happen with injuries, did it? But my stomach swirled...

_Keep going...keep going, don't stop..._

I let out a gasp as I stuck out my leg for a developpe. I forced my lips into a smile.

The audience had settled again. They thought I was fine.

_I am fine...I _am...

I tour jeted down the line, and when I reached the end, my class followed me as I led them in a tight spiral. When I took my pose in the centre, they broke off into two circles; an outer and an inner. The inner one was made of eight people, and they surrounded me as they revolved, blocking me from the audience's view.

Suddenly with nothing to do, my adrenalin rush stopped.

I collapsed on the ground, clutching my swollen ankle. Tears swelled in my eyes.

That was it. I'd failed...I couldn't go on. The pain was too much...

...but I had to! I had to go on until the music had stopped and the lights had dimmed! I had already played my class too many times! I promised I would be a benefit to them...and what about Jeffrey Evans? And the Denali's? I couldn't let them win...

I gritted my teeth so hard, clenching my fists together, and pushed myself up onto my knees. Then I put my left foot up...and my right...

"No!" I whimpered as it collapsed under me. Helplessness destroyed me as I began to fall again.

"Bella!" A warm arm suddenly wrapped around my waist.

My heart stuttered.

No...this wasn't possible...

* * *

**Please review :D**


	25. Chapter 25

Hey guys!

To all those in the Commonwealth Countries, WOOHOO! Queen's Birthday! Long weekend!

Actually, it differs from country to country, but anyway here in the Land of the Long White Cloud we had a lovely three day weekend...

Apart from the aftershock this morning, which was a bit of a wake up call since it's been pretty quiet recently. I was writing, thinking 'Hmm, get under my desk or find out what Edward's up to...'

Fortunately, I haven't bothered to clean up my bedroom since February (seriously, four months...I don't sleep in here, though), so there's not much on the walls to fall down :D

Anywho, that's my little chitchat for the day :D Onto business...

**Thanks so much for your reviews!**

**We're at Chapter Twenty Five now and it's only because of you guys! Thank you!**

Oh yeah, also: DANCING TWILIGHT COMMUNITY!

I created it last week, after a few people asked me about other ballet fanfics, and I really need to put some more fics on it (Clair's the only one at present...). I don't have a lot of time at the moment to go poking around Fanfiction - I would love to, though - so I need your recommendations! At present, I'm looking for any sorts of dance fanfics (not just Ballet, though it will always be my favourite...). They must be based around dance (not just a sort of add on which doesn't go anywhere) and they need to be at least ten thousand words long! Also, the dance needs to be well informed!

So yeah, please flick me a review or a PM if you have any ideas!

Okay,

**Please Review!**

**And Enjoy!**

* * *

_All of Me - Jon Schmidt_

_Viva la Vida - Coldplay_

_Evenstar - Lord of the Rings, Howard Shore_

* * *

He held me against his chest for a second, as we both got our breathing in check. The dancers spun around us, black figures in the dimmed lights. The piano played, but I heard none of it. Edward..._Edward..._

Gently, he lowered me back to the stage floor, until I could sit. I stared up. How? How was this possible? But he was gazing back down at me, his eyes still an intense green, his hair messy.

"You're here," I whispered.

He lips turned up slightly, "I'm here."

His voice...I let out the croak of a sob and a laugh. My ankle moved. I gasped, gulping back the sick feeling.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, the floating world of ours destroyed. The piano was loud in my ears now. Time...as soon as the piano reached its crescendo was reached, I had to be ready...

"I'm dancing," I told him.

"Bella," he said incredulously, "You're injured."

I shook my head, "It's not so bad." Now more than ever, with Edward here...I _had _to do this...

With my teeth biting hard into my lip, I pushed myself up, getting my good leg under me.

But suddenly Edward's hand was on my shoulder, pushing me back down. His eyes burned, "Bella, you can't do this."

I stared for a second... "I know," I said, my voice wavering "...but I still have to."

"Why? You're in pain, Bella...I could tell from the wings..."

I smiled grimly, "'there are no excuses'."

His eyes flashed, recognizing his own words. He looked at my swollen ankle, then back to my face, studying it, "I can't stop you, can I?"

I shook my head, "You can't."

He raised his chin, looking past the dancer's into the blackness of the unseeing audience. "You must dance, then...but not alone."

In a single movement, he had lifted me up to standing, making sure I was leaning on my left foot.

"Edward," I whispered, my mind struggling to catch up. "You don't have to do this...I know you don't..."

He hooked a finger under my chin, tilting it till I met his eyes. They burned with green fire, "Bella Swan," he said softly, though his words were as strong as bone, "Ignore everything, _everything _that I have said previous to this moment," but didn't that mean...no...he leaned closer to me, his eyes turning almost desperate, "I know I don't deserve it...but will you trust me? Will you give me your trust, Bella?"

For all the worlds, I could have pondered his words for hours. I could have questioned and fought...but at the end of the day, I realized, there would only ever be one answer, "I trust you," I whispered. No...I couldn't let myself interpret his words the way I wanted to...I couldn't let the delusion win...

"And I trust you," he said back, shutting his eyes for a split second, "More than I have allowed myself to understand."

I was so confused...what did he mean?

Then he gently turned me so that I was facing the front, where soon my class would break apart. "Just keep your weight on your left foot," he said softly in my ear. He was so close...shivers ran up my spine, "If you can, keep your other leg straight. I won't drop you..."

I nodded nervously, "We have four bars..." the eight people dancing around us sped up, spinning and twirling as I had, lifting the music to the most terrific peak. "One," I said shakily, "Two." I was going to dance with Edward... "Three." No...no those same feelings were going to come back... "Four." I had to stay neutral... "Five." Simultaneously, we took in a deep breath. Edward pulled me a little closer to him. It was just a dance... "Six." But was it? "Edward!" I burst out. "When we danced. In the studio... "

"Bella, I – "

But the dancers hiding us suddenly split, fading away into the wings. No!

Edward hesitated only a moment, then lifted me high. My arms rose up. The glaring bright lights were on us. We were bared to the black sea of the audience. The world opened.

I heard the gasp of surprise. The piano suddenly faltered, holding on to its last note. Everything paused. Just for a single second. And then the piano started again.

It was the same tune...but slower...delicate. It was the beginning again! Those first few curious bars...

Edward lowered me, until my left pointe touched the ground. The notes began to roll down, and I did as I had done before, leaning into a penche, lifting my leg up until it was straight with my standing one. But it was different now, because Edward was in front of me, down on his knee, holding my hands. His eyes held mine, gazing at me. I knew I looked confused and flustered. He hadn't answered...I didn't know...what had he been about to say?

The music came back up, and so did I. Then I walked forward, trying to keep my weight on my ankle for only the briefest of moments. Edward held my hand. I went up on my pointe. He seemed to know what I was going to do, and so left my hand and went to my waist. I pirouetted. His hands rung around me, giving me extra spin.

It felt so easy...but I just didn't know...I didn't understand.

The music finished it's tinkling. I should have ended my turn and put my leg back on the ground as I usually did...but my body, without any instruction, leant backwards, letting my bad leg stretch out in front of me, laying my head against his shoulder.

Why? Why was I doing this? It was silly...he hadn't answered...

But it felt so perfect, leaning back against him. I felt safe...my eyes shut. His hand came further onto my stomach.

What was I _doing?_

The music continued. I stepped away from him, his hands slipping from my bodice. But I knew I wanted them back...

I walked forwards again. Edward, a few metres away from me now, did the same.

This was the part where I was meant to be reaching for something...but I had already discovered the World of Ballet...this time, I had to search for something else...but the one thing that I wanted...it was stupid...it had been proven wrong on so many occasions...but I still wanted it. I wanted it so badly now...

So I gave up.

I let myself be taken.

I let the delusion have me.

As the music came into its final soft chord, I gave Edward one last, almost apologetic look. I knew he was just trying to get me through the rest of my solo...I knew I shouldn't make it more than it was...but then I let my bad leg come behind my other, and I lowered, letting my back knee touch the ground. My tutu was rough on my thigh. I brought my hand to my heart, bowing my head...surrendering myself to him. To Edward.

At that moment there was no past...no future. There was just raw instinct...all there ever is in ballet, once you are here, on stage...

And so I held my position, only looking up a little, peeking at the man across the stage from me...

But he was no longer standing. He was sinking down onto one knee, bringing himself lower than me. His hand clasped to his chest.

My breathing halted. He wasn't...he couldn't be...

Then his face lifted again. Our eyes locked. And it was like that first dance...the same thought in our minds...except that now he knew the question I was asking. And he was giving me the answer.

When we had danced, he had felt it.

The connection. It was real.

The piano broke into the melody, definitive and sure. And I was up, rushing towards him, feeling as light as air. My ankle hurt...but it was covered by something even more potent than adrenalin. Edward! He understood! He knew!

As I reached the middle, I spun into a pirouette. Edward was right there at my waist, and I leant back, my head and arms now over his shoulder. He picked me up just slightly and spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh as I twirled, the air rushing past me. I knew only he would hear over the light, carefree music. And I knew...somehow...that he understood.

As he put me down again, I stepped back, and he leapt across the stage, his muscles flexing as he flew through the air. I could see the smile on his face...he was truly amazing...

As he landed his second leap, he stood and held out a hand to me, his eyes lit with excitement.

I raised my chin, and in a few quick steps, my waist was in his hands again.

I let my legs come out, and it was as if I was leaping, accept my feet merely brushed the floor as Edward lifted me each time, keeping my ankle from damage. The music carried on at it's fast pace, and we went with it. I leapt again and again, but it was growing in volume...something more had to happen.

At my highest point in the leap, Edward suddenly twisted me and let go for a single second. I was spinning in the air! He quickly caught me again, bringing me right down until I was bent back over his arm, staring up at his face. I thought I heard clapping...but the music was coming to its end, powering through. It took only a second for him to pull me back up on my feet.

We separated again, going to our opposite sides.

I pirouetted, feeling so glorious...so happy! As I passed in a blur, I saw Edward doing the same, spinning with equal speed. I had never seen someone so strong...

Three bars...two bars...

And I ran once again, launching myself high into the air. Edward caught me as the final bar played, and I was up high in an arabesque.

An arabesque...just as I had begun the piece...but so much had changed...I was no longer on the ground, I was suspended above the whole world...elated like no one else...save one...

The last note faded.

The lights went out to black.

Edward gently lowered me back to the ground, setting me on my pointe again. My bad ankle tucked behind it. My hands rested on his chest. His arm was wrapped around my waist.

All I could hear was his breathing and my own. In the dim lights from the wings, Edward's face looked shadowed...beautiful and strong. The exhilaration was still on his face.

I stared at him, a smile spreading over my face. The relief...the pain...the dance... "You answered," I whispered, laughing in elation.

He laughed with me then, pulling me up in his arms. My hands went around his neck...he was really here... "I did, Bella..."

"All that you said before?"

He shook his head, "That dance meant everything, Bella..."

And then his lips were on mine.

I gasped. What? But then I was kissing him back urgently, my dancer's instinct taking over. I felt his smile as our mouths met. My bodice pressed into his chest. He was so warm...

His strong arms wrapped further around me. My fingers wove into his hair.

Perfection...perfection in chaos...

"Uh...Bella?" Came someone's voice. No!

I snapped down from my pointe, fumbling a little as I regained my footing. Edward steadied me. My heart was going frantically fast.

I glanced around, patting down my tutu. I could faintly see my class in lines across the stage. Eliza was behind us, a grin on her face.

"Curtain call," Edward murmured.

"I..." but speech was a little too much for me...

Edward grabbed my hand and helped me limp off stage.

The lights went up as we reached the curtain. Edward kept a hand around my waist, "Don't go further back; I think Esme's waiting..."

I nodded nervously. _I'd kissed Edward...Edward had kissed me...we'd kissed...Edward...he was here...the delusion wasn't a delusion..._

I bit my lip and focussed on my class.

They were in two lines, alternately girls and boys, standing poised and perfect. They walked forward as one, then the ladies stepped to the right and curtsied, as we did in class. I looked at Violet almost bursting with excitement. Lauren was between Tyler and Ryan in the front row, looking demure, her usual half-smirk on her face. The boys then stepped up and bowed, just a simple forward motion. Ben was beaming like he hadn't done for days. Again, I hoped Angela was watching...

The audience, who I couldn't see, clapped and clapped. My class...my class who had been through so much because of me, were smiling and looking at each other proudly. Part of me hummed with happiness. I hadn't failed them...or, at least, they didn't think I had...

They walked back again, leaving space at the front of the stage, and their heads turned to where we stood in the wings.

"Ready?" Edward whispered.

I nodded.

"Can you walk?" He asked.

"I'll have to," I murmured.

I remembered Odette...four years ago, when I'd first experienced ballet...what had she done?

Edward took my left hand in his, and his other hand rested lightly on my back. We walked out. The clapping became louder. Someone shouted something...I swallowed and focussed. I walked high on the balls of my feet, letting my free arm drift out, leading my body. My ankle ached more and more with every light step. _Just keep smiling..._I forced brightness into my eyes, and made my lips come up. After all, I had more to be happy about than not be happy about...didn't I? As soon as I processed everything...

Edward held my hand lightly in his own. It was only when we reached the middle of the stage that I finally looked up.

I found myself facing a massive auditorium packed with people. There were four blocks of seats in the stalls, sprawling around the stage. Then there was a dress circle, a golden balcony with even more seats on it. Above that was another balcony, 'the Gods', which was almost empty, aside from a few people at the front.

The American Ballet, in their blue, red and white tracksuits were easy to spot in the middle of the stalls, cheering and clapping. _Cheering..._I swallowed, staring out at the masses of people who had watched my life change...

"Walk forward, Bella," Edward whispered amusedly. I did as he said, taking three delicate steps to the front. He let go of my hand, then, and stepped back.

I fought the urge to look back...where was he?

_Just curtsy..._

I stepped to the right, my ankle wobbling as I stood on it. Taking a deep breath, I looked to the left side of the theatre, letting my left arm up rise up, recognizing the audience there. And then I looked to the right, my right arm rising up in honour of those there. My hands met above my head and I knelt, trying to put as much weight on my knee as possible. My arms came down on either side of me, drawing a circle in the air as I brought them to my chest, crossing my wrists and lowering my head down to my front knee. The clapping became even louder. I felt my heart thudding through my bodice. These were my last few seconds before the dance was well and truly over...before I had to feel the massive repercussions which were sure to come...

But I had done what I'd set out to do...

With another deep breath, I rose up again, biting back the grimace at having to stand on my right leg. Edward was taking my hand again. I looked at him. He was smiling at me. I stepped back, letting go of his hand this time.

He stepped forward majestically, looking confidently up to the dress circle. He made a wide sweeping motion with his left hand, acknowledging the audience as I had, and then the same with his right. Girls began squealing. He brought his hands back down to his sides as he bowed his head forward. He held it only a few moments before stepping back and taking my hand.

We glanced back at my class, and then together, we walked forward, taking our last curtsies and bows. I went low again, more for my leg than anything else. It was then that I looked up, catching sight of the grand chandelier hanging in the middle of the auditorium. It was made up of three tiers of crystals, all shining magnificently in the lights...but they weren't what caught my attention. It was the words written in silver on the high ceiling around it;

_Do not look up, my friends, but forward, for it is upon my stage that you shall gain a glimpse of the heavens._

A shiver ran up my spine. Marcus Vigernon must have written that...

Crap! I was meant to be standing! Too quickly, I lifted out of my curtsy and up onto my right leg. My ankle gave out, and I stumbled forwards, gasping in pain.

Edward was there in a second, grabbing my waist. I choked back a sob, and stood up straight, forcing a smile back onto my face.

They clapped even harder, then, calling out words which were lost in all the other noise. I swallowed, the sickness finally coming at me.

The lights went down.

"Oh God," I moaned.

Without a word, Edward picked me up in his arms and carried me offstage.

"Well ladies and gentlemen," Emmet's voice quickly came on, "What a show of perseverance that one was! A spectacular performance there by Bella Swan, and Madame Cox's First Year Class, with a rather unexpected appearance of Edward Masen! Alright, next up we have Master Rodriguez's class..."

As soon as we were out of the front wing and backstage, we were surrounded by my class.

"Oh my God, Bella!" Eliza whispered as Edward set me back down, keeping a firm hold on me, "Are you okay?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. "I just slipped a bit. I'm fine."

Edward's arm tightened around my waist. He knew I wasn't...

"I can't believe you fell _twice_," sneered Megan.

"I'm sure it wasn't her fault," said Ben.

"OMG!" Violet popped up in front of us, looking excitedly from me to Edward. "Did you guys plan this?" She gasped, "Is this why you wanted to dance tonight? Oh! That is so romantic!"

Edward conceded a tiny smile, "No, Miss Price, we didn't plan this."

"But you _kissed!" _She exclaimed. I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Edward cleared his throat, looking down.

Though I had far more pressing things to worry about, I couldn't help the doubts from coming to me. Did he regret it? It was just a spur of the moment thing...

Eliza gave Violet an elbow in the ribs, "Shut _up _Vi'!"

"Oh I _knew _it!" She kept going, "This is so amazingly cute!"

The first powerful cello strokes of _Viva la Vida _began playing. On the stage, girls in white and red dresses began tour jeteing across the floor.

"We caned them," Lauren muttered, leaning back against an amp. She avoided Edward's gaze.

"We _so _did!" Said Abigail. "Andwe _did_ have a Pas de Deux in the end!"

"Bella! Edward!" Alice was suddenly weaving through my class to get to us. She threw her arms around the both of us. I bit my cheek against the pain... "I can't _believe _what you two just did!" She looked around at my class, "What all of you guys did! That was amazing!" My friends gave nervous, but still proud smiles in return. Alice turned back to us, "I've never seen you dance a Pas de Deux like that, Edward! It was just..."

But then there was the ominous click of high heels on the stage floor.

"Get out of the way! Get into your dressing rooms!" Snapped Madame Esme. She came up to us as my class hesitantly left. She was dressed in an elegant evening dress, which was a deep red and reached up one shoulder. "You too, Miss Brandon," she said. Alice frowned, but Madame Esme gave her a stony look. Sighing, Alice gave us a quick smile and left.

Madame Esme stepped in closer. "What the Hell did you two think you were doing?" She hissed. "You!" She looked me up and down, "This is the _second _time you broke the rules! Right in front of me! And you!" She jabbed a finger at Edward, "What did you think you were doing? Running on stage like that!"

"I checked the lighting, Esme," Edward said calmly. "The audience couldn't see me."

She rolled her eyes, "You're meant to be in _New York!"_

When he didn't say anything, she sighed. "I need to go and get the next class ready. Doctor Hill is in his office. You need to go and see him – you may have fooled the audience, but you certainly didn't fool us. And I don't doubt Master Carlisle will wish to talk to you both after the Review is finished."

We nodded. I gulped, feeling worse by the second.

Madame Esme began to walk off, but then stopped, turning back around.

"Edward," she said, her voice softer. She gazed at him, "You could have saved many people a lot of grief tonight if you had done what I told you to do earlier."

Edward paused, "I know," he said quietly. What was Madame Esme talking about?

She nodded and went into the crossover.

Master Rodriguez's dancers hurried about, getting to their entrances on time. I glanced through the wings. True to the rumours, there were five pairs of dancers in the middle of the stage, the boys helping the girls to pirouette and performing straight lifts.

Watching their right legs snapping up and down from pointe made me feel even sicker...

Leaning heavily on Edward, we silently headed for the stage door.

The dressing room corridors were mercifully empty.

I slumped down onto a bench and began picking at the knot of my pointe shoe. It untied quickly. I pulled off the shoe, relieved at the release of pressure. But then I looked at my ankle.

Even through the tights, I could see it had swelled horribly, and the whole area of my foot had turned an ugly blue and black.

"Jesus, Bella," Edward breathed, kneeling down beside me.

I swallowed, "It's not that bad."

"I shouldn't have let you dance..."

I shook my head, "You said it yourself; you couldn't have stopped me."

He glanced up at me, "Why did you want to do it so much?"

"It's dancing," I replied without a thought.

He gazed at me, a slight smile coming to his lips, "So it is," he said softly. He understood...he understood the one thing which no one else could grasp...

But footsteps were echoing down the hallway.

"Would you care to explain," came a sneering voice, "Why you're wearing my tutu?"

* * *

This was probably one of the hardest chapters to write...I'm really sorry if there were any weird mistakes. I had to get this out before I run out of time...

**Please review! :D**


	26. Chapter 26

Guten Tag!

Greetings from...Christchurch, not Germany. I wish...maybe on my OE?

Right, so we had a little disruption from a certain seismic event last week, but apart from that I've been very busy writing dreaded English essays (really, I just can't stand them...), playing paintball (I have a massive bruise on my leg. Whoever says it doesn't hurt is a looney), giving a semi-impromptu presentation about anorexia (very interesting and sad), drinking copious amounts of coffee, rehearsing pretty much everyday for this thing I've got coming up, being ill (in Christchurch it's cold and everywhere's got holes. Sore throats are running rampant), and trying to sort out the house and such.

The main reason for not posting sooner is just Writer's Block, really. Sometime's it's a real show stopper, and I'm really sorry!

To all of you guys who have been having exams - I hope they've gone well and that you're not too tired!

**Thank you for your reviews! I'm so sorry it took a long time!**

**This is the second to last chapter of Clair! Your reviews have gotten me this far! _Thank you!_**

Alright! I am finish-ed (I've been studying Taming of the Shrew, as well :D)!

**Please review!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Moulin Rouge Soundtrack_

_Pirate of the Carribean Soundtrack_

_The Chronicle of Narnia: Prince Caspian Soundtrack_

* * *

Not so long ago, I would I have stared in awe at the girl in front of us. She was almost glowing in a beautiful golden tutu. It was long and shimmering, reaching down to her calves. Her pointe shoes were gold satin, with matching ribbons. Her bodice was made from panels of more gold satin. It was cut in a 'v' down her chest, making her look even more elegant, and translucent beads were stitched up in delicate branches. Her hair was plaited and twisted into a bun. She looked like some sort of a princess...

But I wasn't the Bella who'd first met her outside Edward's studio on that night.

Tanya stood glaring at me, looking nothing like the Prima Ballerina I'd once thought she'd resembled...

Edward cautiously stood up, looking Tanya up and down, "Tanya, what are you doing?"

"_We're _dancing our Pas de Deux, Edward," she said, picking up a layer of her tutu and letting it drift down again. She couldn't be serious... "But right now I need to talk to Bella."

What?

Edward looked at me, then back to Tanya, "Tanya...I'm not dancing with you, not tonight."

She faltered for a second, looking at him in surprise, but then quickly straightened, "Whatever," she said nonchalantly, "We'll talk about it later..." Her eyes fixed on me. "Bella? Shall we?"

Swallowing, I pushed myself up, using the wall to support me onto my left foot. Edward wrapped his arm around my waist, steadying me.

His warmth enveloped me, his body so close to mine. Sweet God...I wanted to stand like this forever, but I knew I couldn't...he looked at me concernedly. I tried to look back reassuringly, nodding slightly. "Let me talk to her," I said quietly. It was almost scary; how we'd changed so much in such a short amount of time...how I was here, in his arms...

Edward nodded, and slowly let me go, making sure I could still balance.

"We're on in two hours, Eddie," Tanya said.

Edward just looked at me, and then headed back down the corridor.

I took another breath and looked up.

Tanya had been watching Edward leave, but now her cold eyes flicked to me.

"Don't look so smug," she snapped. "Do you seriously think that tonight has any sway over the future?"

I narrowed my eyes, "Obviously you did, or you wouldn't have tried so hard to make sure Edward wasn't here to see me dance."

Her eyes shone dangerously, "Unfortunately, Frank Rebrevae couldn't find another time."

"Right," I scoffed, "And you just _had _to tell Master Carlisle that I'd been secretly rehearsing."

She shrugged, "Safety's important, particularly with little First Years who don't know what they're doing."

I glared at her. What a bitch... "But you also had to ask your big sister to go tell the entire ballet world that I'm a complete failure."

She laughed, "_That _was the truth."

"Just shut up," I said, trying to stand up straighter. "You've been worried all along that I had something with Edward that you didn't. That's why you're even bitchier to me than you are to most."

Tanya gazed at me, her expression turning nasty again, "Whatever Edward thinks he has with you is inconsequential. You're right to a point, Irina and I have tried to keep him from exploring this stupid little fetish he has with you, but only because it's an inconvenience. It's inconvenient that we missed the audition today, but we still have the other audition next month. It's inconvenient that he's been so distracted lately by you ogling at him through the windows, but it's not that much of a hassle." She took a long, patient breath. "And most importantly, Bella, it's inconvenient that he _has _this silly obsession with you. That he felt obliged to dance with you tonight. But in the end, it is _only _an inconvenience."

"Why?" I said, "He won't even dance with you later."

She shrugged, "Edward's rash and spontaneous, but he's also intelligent. He will soon see that you're not capable of meeting the standards that he sets for himself and, in turn, for his partner."

"And you think you are?" I said, but I felt myself losing conviction...

"I wouldn't be his partner if I wasn't," Tanya replied confidently, "Which is exactly my point; you can't be Edward's partner, Bella. You're clearly not good enough. There's a reason why you're in First Year, not Third Year; you're not experienced, you're not technically advanced, you're not particularly graceful, and," she gestured to my crippled ankle, "You're clearly not very good at balance."

"Mistakes happen," I murmured through gritted teeth.

She gave her sickly-sweet smile, "Mistakes happen in little kids' ballet classes, Bella. Even First Year's a step up from that. Your solo was bad anyway. There was nothing to it. It was totally uninspiring."

I swallowed, "The audience didn't seem to agree with you, Tanya."

She smirked again, "That audience is made up of idiots who would cheer if Edward _crawled _across the stage. He's Edward Masen. They cheered because he made a dramatic appearance and danced with an otherwise boring soloist. But take that Pas de Deux to a world stage, Bella, and you'd be slaughtered," she stepped forward, "It was sloppy and it wasn't technically demanding. It wasn't worthyof Edward Masen." She gazed at me, lowering her voice, "_You're _not worthy of Edward Masen."

I looked at her, trying to find one last shred of argument...trying to find something which would defend me against the truth. I wasn't worthy of Edward...I knew that...didn't I? He was a Senior...I was just a First Year...I didn't have any hope with him...

"Just leave him alone, Bella," Tanya said softly, seeing the surrender on my face. "Leave him to me. I'm worthy of him."

"Bullshit," came a voice from behind us.

We spun around. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Alice stood in the corridor. Behind them, other students were swarming to get a look in. My class, still in their light blue ensembles, quickly pushed through to the front.

Edward's green eyes burned, staring at Tanya.

"I thought you were above this, Tanya," he said quietly.

Tanya swallowed, looking at the assembled crowd.

"What's going on?" I asked. Eliza and Violet, standing en pointe to look over Edward's shoulder, both looked as confused as me.

"Tanya?" Said Edward, "Care to explain?"

I had never seen him look so dark...even when Mike had hurt me...

Tanya raised her chin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's crap, Tanya," said Emmett, folding his muscular arms.

"You forget that stages have wings on _both _sides," said Alice, her voice colder than I'd ever heard it. What were they talking about? "Emmett saw everything."

"The audience on the far right probably saw as well," Emmett put in. "So don't try denying it."

Tanya looked at each of them, as if she was weighing her options. Eventually, taking a deep breath, she straightened up. I noticed her feet going into fourth position, her hands coming out on either side of her. She seemed to become taller, more powerful...Now, _now, _she looked like a ballerina...but like the Evil Queen of the Willis, not the innocent Giselle. "I did what was necessary," she said, her gaze set on Edward. "You needed to see her for what she is."

"No, Tanya," Edward said, his fists clenching, "I saw you for what _you _are."

"You're going to give up everything for her, aren't you?" Tanya said, her voice shaking a little. But she kept composure, "You're going to make a massive mistake. I was only trying to stop you."

"But it didn't work, did it?" Said Emmett.

"_What _didn't work?" I finally demanded.

"She pushed you," Edward said ever so softly, his eyes fixed on Tanya. "Out of sheer jealousy."

_What? _"She _pushed _me?" I repeated. Pushed me? No...but what had that fall felt like? I hadn't even known how it had happened...one second I'd been stepping confidently onto the stage...the next, it was as if some force was on my back, shoving me forwards...

I turned painfully to look at her. Anger brewed in me. How could she... "What?" I seethed. "So dancing my solo was enough of an 'inconvenience' for you to _injure_ me? Even though you just said my solo was crap?"

"What?" I heard Violet squeak crossly. Others murmured their disagreements.

Tanya looked at me, "Your stupid hold over Edward was stronger than I thought. I was just showing him how you _usually _dance."

I ignored her last words, "You've seriously injured me, Tanya!" I exclaimed. Fury ran wrought through my veins now. "I can't _dance! _This could affect my entire career!"

"Well you've just affected mine!" She yelled back, "Edward is all I have to get into the freaking US Ballet! And you're taking him away from me! How is that fucking fair?" She stepped right up to me. "He was mine _first!" _Her hands shoved into my shoulders. I stumbled back, catching myself against the wall. Jasper quickly stepped in to steady me, as Edward grabbed Tanya's wrist.

"I am not _anyone's!"_ He roared. His raging glare drove into Tanya, "I have never been anyone's! I have never been yours and I sure as hell have never been Bella's after the way I've acted, though I see now that you've done everything in your power to prevent that from happening anyway! What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded furiously. "You are meant to be a dancer! Not _this!" _

He gave a disgusted look at her, "What the hell have you _become?" _ When she didn't answer, he sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. When they opened, they were softer...wearier. He let go of Tanya's wrist and gently took her hands instead. I couldn't help the painful jolt which went through my chest... "You've been a great partner, Tanya," he said sincerely.

She looked at him fearfully. A thin sheen of tears were covering her eyes...

Edward continued, "But I can't accept what you've done...what you're capable of..." he shook his head, "I know the pressure you're under. I know that your family's...difficult. But I didn't think that you would stoop to their level."

She frowned, "But I..."

"You beat down your competitors by cheating," said Edward, "Bella's right – you could have ruined her career...how is _that_ fair, Tanya?"

She blinked, glancing at me, then to the crowd observing the whole exchange. She looked back to Edward, "But you're going to stay with me, right? You're going to dance with me tonight..."

Edward looked down, "I can't, Tanya."

"What?" She mumbled, looking down. "I'm still the best choice..."

He shook his head, "It doesn't work like that...but there are plenty of other partners out there, Tanya. You shouldn't have to rely on a partner anyway..." he tried to catch her gaze, but she stared adamantly at the floor. Edward straightened, sighing, "You're a great dancer, Tanya. You can make it on your skill alone. You don't need me. And you don't need to cheat, either..."

"And you're going to go with Bella now?" She whispered. Her voice was suddenly icy. Warning.

Edward sensed it too, withdrawing a little, "You know that Bella and I have something which I..." he glanced down, "Which I don't understand...but I need to work things out, Tanya..."

"Just cut the crap," she suddenly snapped, wrenching her hands from his, "You're just a stupid idiot and you're making a stupid mistake!" She stepped back, her shoulders hunched. The tears in her eyes glimmered angrily. "You're right, Edward; I don't need you. You've been a shit partner!" She looked behind him to everyone else, "And I don't need this fucking school, either. There's a reason why the US Ballet hardly ever accepts anyone from here! _Force _is a laughing stock!"

Everyone stared at her disbelievingly. Her own school...and she'd forsaken them...slandered them...

And then she spun around to me, stalking towards me, "And you are the worst part of this goddamned school, Bella Swan! You'll never make it in the real ballet world!" She took another step. "You're a shitty, lying, piss-take of a dancer! You're too old, you're too inexperienced and you're too sloppy!"

Once again, she was almost in my face, staring down at me, looking impossibly tall.

No...I couldn't let her keep saying such things about me...

Taking a breath, I stepped forward from Jasper. I let my bad foot stay back, pointing on the floor, and leaned on my front. My arms came out slightly, my hands floating lightly on either side of my tutu. I felt the blue tulle brush against my fingers. I raised my chin, letting my neck and chest lengthen.

And then I felt Edward's hand come to rest on my waist.

He stood defiantly beside me, gazing at Tanya.

Without a word, our left hands touched, and he took mine in his own. I watched as his thumb gently stroked the back of my hand. Maybe...maybe Tanya was right...but I wouldn't care...

Tanya smirked, her lip twitching a little, "You seriously think that this will work?

I gazed at her. Her reddened eyes. Her stiff posture. Her clenched fists.

"I don't know," I said, letting my voice be heard throughout the corridor. "But that shouldn't matter to you, Tanya, because if you _ever _try to mess with our dancing again...if you ever spread rumours or _injure _people again, we will make sure that the whole god damned world knows about it."

"Perhaps the real ballet world hates _Force," _said Edward, his voice strong and loud, "But if there is one thing they hate more, it is a cheater. You will be ruined."

Tanya's narrowed eyes flicked between me and Edward. She breathed heavily, her nostrils flaring. When she spoke, her voice shook, "You two will fail. And I will win. In the end..."

And with that, she spun on her gold satin heel and marched down the corridor. Bewildered students parted as she brushed past them. She rounded the corner, a wisp of golden tulle the last sight we had of her.

Even though almost the whole school was packed in, the corridor was silent.

The shock was clear on their faces...their Prima Ballerina had just left...

Edward stepped in closer to me. I looked up to his eyes. They were sorrowful. He'd lost his partner of three years...just over a single dance with me...

I wanted to say something, but I could feel the school watching us.

"Well," said Emmett, clapping his hands together. Everyone looked at him, "It seems that Tanya Denali has left the stage."

Suddenly, there was a burst of conversation and everyone was talking excitedly, whispering conspiratorially with each other and looking at Edward and me.

"I can't believe she _pushed _her!"

"What happened on stage?"

"I thought they were at an audition."

"This is _so _exciting!"

"She just got _owned!"_

"Tanya would never do something like that."

"That was awesome..."

"Did you see them dance?"

But the talking was abruptly cut off.

Everyone turned to the stage door.

Master Carlisle stood there, his face unreadable.

The school nervously parted, exposing me and Edward. His arms tightened around me a little.

But Master Carlisle didn't seem to care about us. "Get back in your dressing rooms," Master Carlisle ordered calmly. "The noise you were making could be heard in the audience. That is unprofessional and unacceptable. Go."

People quickly broke away, walking quickly around the corridor corner and through doors.

Eliza and Violet both gave me anxious smiles before hurrying off.

Emmett clapped Edward and gave me a smile before going past his father and through the stage door.

Rosalie, Alice and Jasper all took their leave. Alice winked to us as they rounded the corner.

"Where is Tanya?" asked Master Carlisle, walking towards us.

"She walked out," Edward replied. "Do you know what she did, Carlisle?"

He nodded, "Emmett got a message to me. Esme has taken over the judging for the moment. I am sure Miss Denali will return when she is ready." He gazed at the two of us. "Although she is not the only one with explaining to do, is she? Follow me."

Edward and I exchanged a glance. He was trying to look reassuring, but I sensed that he respected Master Carlisle's opinion just as much as Emmett or Jasper.

He kept one arm hooked around my waist and we began to follow Master Carlisle.

\*\*/*/

Master Carlisle flicked the lights to his office on, and pulled out a chair for me. Edward helped me to sit, then took the seat next to me.

It had only been last night that I'd been in here with Lauren...then, I had felt nervous and angry...but now, even though the crime I'd committed was probably worse, I was only nervous for Edward. Angela had already spelled out all the consequences of my actions, and I'd accepted them. But Edward? He had run on stage to save _me..._and what if the consequences were bad for him?

"Tonight's stunt," Master Carlisle began, sitting behind his desk, "Was absolutely unacceptable..." he looked at me, "I seem to recall having a conversation with you not even two _hours _ago about how you weren't going to be dancing tonight."

"I'm sorry sir..." I said quietly.

But he wasn't finished, "To break the rule once, Miss Swan...that I could understand. To break that same rule again, though..." he shook his head, "I've already explained to you the reasons why you weren't meant to dance tonight. I thought you understood those."

"I do, sir," I said earnestly.

"Then why did you persist in breaking that rule?" He asked.

I looked down at my hands, resting in the tulle of my tutu.

"You know why, Carlisle," Edward spoke up, his voice serious. "And you know that you would have done the same thing."

Master Carlisle raised a judging eyebrow, "That is a rather brash assumption, Edward."

"It's still true," he replied unwaveringly.

Master Carlisle took a breath, "Perhaps, once. Because I, like the two of you, once indulged myself in following my impulses..." he shook his head, "But your actions tonight were still appalling. You have caused far too many ripples in this school tonight. You've pushed boundaries which other people will now try to push. You're the top danseur in this school, Edward, you're meant to be setting an _example," _He fixed Edward with a frank look. "You know that."

Edward said nothing, but nodded, not quite looking at Master Carlisle.

"And Miss Swan..." Master Carlisle looked to me, "You are being watched by far more people than you think. Students, teachers, Ballet Companies. You are controversial, and that can be a good thing. But not when controversial turns into being a childish nuisance..."

I felt so tired...I knew this already...

Edward's hand silently slid from his lap to the side of his chair. My fingers linked with his, unseen to Master Carlisle. I breathed in. I could be stronger than this. I knew I had been stupid doing my dance when I shouldn't have, but...I still didn't regret it. None of this would have happened if I had just sat backstage and not danced...

I straightened up, holding Edward's hand tighter.

Master Carlisle gazed at my new stance, "Neither of you will be swayed, will you?"

"We made the right decision," I said, trying to make my voice stronger.

Our headmaster waited a moment, looking between the two of us, before he nodded, "Indeed you did."

I blinked. What?

"The way you danced tonight was a very rare occurrence. There are very few partners who could perform as you two just did. Without any rehearsal or talk. With complete spontaneity. It is hard enough to do a solo off the cuff, but when it is a Pas de Deux, with two people, they must be exactly in tune to what the other will do...that is a tremendous feat. You performed extraordinarily, and that is all that the stage and the audience requires. That neither of you should have been there does not matter to the majority of them..." he sighed, "But I do not intend to let it happen again. The next time the two of you dance on stage, it will be well rehearsed and it will be _expected."_

Edward's eyes lit up, "You'll let us dance together?"

My heart surged in my chest. I felt a dopey smile appear on my face.

Master Carlisle nodded, "On a trial basis. A full partnership between a first year and a third year has not happened here for a very long time. You will both likely get very frustrated with each other. There is a big gap between your experience and skill."

I glanced at Edward. He seemed unfazed.

"But those worries are for later. Your partnership cannot start until you have fully recovered from you injury, and until another Pas de Deux teacher is found for your class."

We nodded.

He glanced at his watch, "I must return to the judging panel," he said, standing. We followed suit, Edward supporting me up.

Master Carlisle observed Edward's arm around me, and my hand gripping his.

"Never again, Miss Swan, Mister Masen," he flicked us a smile and left, leaving the door open for us.

Edward pulled me close to him, wrapping his arms tight around my waist. My ankle, so weak now, gave no support, and I leant against his body. He brushed a stray piece of hair from my face. I revelled in his warm touch... "So much has changed," I whispered, looking up at him.

He nodded, "...I have some explaining to do."

I chanced a smile, "I think you might."

* * *

Oh yeah, I read 'Passion' by Lauren Kate last night. Awesome. Its a bit more sophisticated than Twilight (please don't hurt me) because of the links to Theology and the Bible and a whole load of interesting stuff. It's a very clever story. First book is 'Fallen'! Really good stuff!

Anyways,

**Please review! Tell me your thoughts! Thanks :D**


	27. Chapter 27

Hey!

I'm so sorry this has taken such a long time...I've had performances and auditions and school work and writer's block and perfectionitis and then unperfectionitis and everything...

This chapter is ten thousand words long. It has taken me two weeks of writing for quite a few hours every day (which I've never done before). I originally wrote four thousand words - my standard length - and ended up scrapping it entirely and starting afresh. Arg...

Still, here it is - the final chapter.

There will be an epilogue, though, which will be along very shortly.

**Thank you so much for all your reviews and support! You are simply amazing!**

**This one's been a hard one, but I haven't given up thanks to your messages!**

**The difference you make is...heh, indescribable...**

I'm sorry for any mistakes - I have checked most of it but I'm so sorry if there's anything which doesn't make sense.

I've tried to break up the blocks of words as much as possible, but use controls at the top right of the page if you're staring at the paragraphs going 'oh lord...'

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**and**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The second floor corridors were dark and ethereal as we walked through them. The night had closed in, and though I knew that in the theatre it would be bright and loud, here it was so peaceful...hushed.

I leant heavily on Edward's strong body, keeping my bad leg from any pressure. "I'm sorry," I said softly, "You must be sick of having to half carry me everywhere."

He smiled, "It's what we danseurs are trained to do."

"Usually the danseuse does a little more to help, though," I pointed out. "I can walk."

He rolled his eyes, "I think you've already done way more than you should on it. Really, I should be handing you off to Doctor Hill, not making you move even more."

"As soon as Doctor Hill gets at me, I'll be locked in a dance-proof cell for the rest of my life."

Edward grinned, glancing at me as he helped me down the senior corridor, "You'll find a way out, just like you did this time."

"I didn't want to break the rules," I said.

He raised an eyebrow, "But you had a decent reason."

I paused as we reached the door to the Senior Common Room, "What do you mean?"

We went in. None of the lights were on, but the heater in front of the deceased fireplace glowed a warm orange. Edward helped me over to one of the couches and sat me down, pulling up a coffee table and a cushion to rest my ankle on. I felt so helpless...but warmth spread through my chest. I had always fended for myself...this was strange, but so...nice...

"You didn't break the rule not to dance out of spite," he said, sitting down on the edge of the couch to face me. "Or because you wanted to show off...you wouldn't _need _to break them for those things. But for the dance itself?" He gazed at me, "I think you'd sacrifice nearly anything to perform that...you danced it like it was a part of you – as much as your name or your face. It wasn't just choreography which could be danced by anyone, Bella...it was yours." He smiled, "We have a right to protect our property. You had to dance it, regardless of any rules."

I looked at him, my heart beating steadily in my chest, "Most people wouldn't take that as a legitimate excuse."

His smile turned a little bitter, "I know."

"You've done the same thing?" I asked.

He nodded, "Once upon a time I did it a lot – danced to my own rules, not the rules of others."

"What happened that stopped you?"

Edward ran a hand through his hair, "In my first year at _Force,_ I was a teacher's worst nightmare. I don't think there was one day when Master Hinde didn't tell me off for something or other. Me and Em and Jasper were always making a racket in the Dining Hall. We used to get up after lights out and meet up with the girls. One time we even snuck into the Staffroom at midnight to heat up some pop tarts and found Madame Cox in there having a smoke with Master Rodriguez."

He smiled reminiscently, "I still worked hard, though. I was late to pretty much every ballet history and music class, but never to the dancing ones. I stayed near the top of the year group – Jasper and I were always fighting for the first spot. But the greatest thing about those first six months was the freedom. I loved ballet like nothing else – the way it could express everything I felt..." He looked distantly out the window, "Back then, when I performed, I gave myself over to music. Every single part of me. I didn't think about the next move or my technique. I rehearsed enough so that they would become second nature, so that I could move with total freedom, in complete connection with the music and my emotions. I really _danced..." _

He flicked me a smile, "Of course, sometimes my technique did drop, and teachers got a little angry...but I didn't believe there was anything stronger or surer than the link between the music and the emotion and the dancer – the expression. And I thought that that expression was all you needed. Yes, the technique and the theory they kept going on at me for were important, but if you didn't have expression then you were destined to be in the corps for the rest of eternity, dancing in uniform order with twenty nine other elegant robots. It was a bit of a fairytale idea, but I believed it..."

He sighed, "But then I was invited to this weeklong course in LA. Dancers from all over the country coming to impress the dignitaries," he smiled dryly, "It was a collaboration of all the major American companies – they sent their most experienced principals or soloists. Their job was to just teach us the choreography and give us tips, and all the while they scoped out potential dancers for their own companies. It was a good opportunity, and I did well. They gave me a small solo, nothing compared to some of the older guys, but it was a good one, with decent choreography.

"On the final night, we performed a showcase at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in front of some _very_ big names in the Ballet World. Frank Rebrevae was there, along with a whole load of other artistic directors from some of the World's top companies..." Edward took a long breath, "I was nervous as hell, but I managed to get myself into the wings without chucking up like a couple of the others were doing."

"They were throwing up?" I repeated. "Poor guys..."

"I don't know; they were more intelligent than me. They were nervous because they knew that their performances on that night could make or break their careers. Of course, I was the one who should have been worried, but all I was thinking about was giving an entertaining performance."

Even in the orange light of the heater, Edward face looked a little pale. "What happened?" I asked softly.

He swallowed, looking at me, "I went on. The music began. And the nervousness left me. The moves flowed perfectly from one to the next...I could feel the audience, almost as if they were under my spell. And I told them all the emotion and serenity that the music asked for...and as the end came, there were faster notes and I was going in a fast set of leaps..."

I pictured him in my head, on a big stage, cutting high through the air, like a god... "It was like the epitome of freedom, and I took the audience with me, higher and higher in exhilaration until I knew a simple leap wouldn't be enough...and, like the move had been there all along, I leapt higher and spun...and then as I landed, I felt the most god awful pain in my life."

I looked at him, the dream he'd created suddenly shattered, "No..."

"I can still hear my shout echoing through that theatre...my knee felt like it had been wrenched from its placing..." he shook his head, looking blankly at the floor. "I collapsed in front of a thousand people...and when everyone expected me to get up, I couldn't, even though I tried."

"But you were injured..."

He gave me a wry look, "'there are no excuses'...still, they eventually caught on that I wasn't going to be able to walk, let alone finish the dance. They shut the curtains and then carried me offstage and drove me to hospital. I was too delirious with the pain to know what was really going on, but I knew it was bad. I got x-rayed, and when I'd been drugged with enough pain meds to make me sane, they told me my knee needed reconstructing...and that it'd take at least two months before I could even think about dancing again."

"That must've been awful..." I whispered, my hand reaching out of its own accord to touch his. He stiffened a little, but then stroked his thumb across my knuckles. My heart thudded.

He nodded, "I didn't come back here to get my stuff – I couldn't face anyone. What I'd done was so shameful, so _stupid_...I went straight to my father's house in Chicago and just sat there for the four weeks before the surgery, though that was hard enough with my father glaring at my knee every time we were in the same room."

"Is he a dancer?" I asked.

Edward chuckled, "Thank God no. He's a lawyer. My mom was the dancer before she died."

His mom died? "I'm so sorry," I said quietly. "I had no idea."

"It happened when I was two," he said, smiling sadly, "I don't remember her at all...I guess that's almost a good thing...although her legacy is still there for me to continue. She was in the corps of the US Ballet. She would've gotten further if she hadn't been chucked out for getting pregnant with me." He looked away distastefully, "I don't believe my father to be a particularly honourable man, but at least he took responsibility for the whole business. He realized he'd stopped her dream from coming true, so he decided I could take over instead. 'It's what your mother would have wanted' has been his catchphrase ever since."

"So it wasn't your choice to do ballet?" I said.

"Not really," he said, "I guess my father was lucky that I loved it so much. He's paid for everything. Private lessons, shoes, clothes, flights to Russia and France and England just to watch single performances, training with the Paris Opera Ballet School, with the Bolshoi briefly, with _Force_. He would probably have paid for Tanya if her own family wasn't loaded, just because she's my partner and might have some effect on me getting into USB."

"That's a little extreme," I murmured.

"_Very,"_ he replied, "Which is why he was royally pissed when I screwed up so badly in front of Frank Rebrevae and everyone else of any importance. My choreographer for the LA piece had gone and told everyone that I'd put that move in on the spot, to make sure that he didn't get any of the blame, which I guess was fair. My father and the director of the course, Helen Fortescue, visited me in hospital. My father bleated on for a while about how stupid I'd been, and why couldn't I have just danced the choreography? I tried to explain that the move had just felt right at the time, that it had expressed what needed to be expressed, and that the fall had just been a mistake, and if it hadn't happened he would have been patting me on the back right now because the move would have made the piece look better. He still wouldn't have it, though, but then he doesn't know much about ballet anyway. I never listened to him, still don't.

"But then Helen Fortescue stood up," Edward took a breath, "She was much smarter than my father. She asked me if I was serious about ballet, whether it was what I wanted to do with my life. I said yes...and then she told me that if really did then I needed to stop acting like a five year old. That the whole idea of expression and dancing from the heart was an idea for Disney, not for real life. She said that everyone else had grown out of that idea long ago."

"_What?" _I said. "Who the heck would say that to someone?"

He nodded, "I haven't met many people as forward as that woman. She told me to grow up. That my solo really hadn't been that good because the gawky facial expression I'd had on my face was marred by the fact that my technique wasn't up to standard. She said I'd been dancing 'blind', I'd been so intent on looking dramatic. So I told her that I'd thought characterisation was half the performance." He ran a hand through his hair, "But she agreed and said instead that expression was important and should be choreographed as much as the steps. It shouldn't just be whatever the dancer feels like on that particular night. Ballet is always carefully planned and rehearsed and controlled, which is why it is superior to other forms of dance.

"She said that if I was serious in having a career in ballet, I should stop screwing around like Barbie and the Twelve Dancing Princesses, going on about expression and passion, and start focussing on what will actually get me a career – memorization of movements, plots, mime, and _flawless_ technique. She said that anything else, any lovey dovey crap wasn't worth even thinking about. If I wanted to be great, then I couldn't let my emotions get in the way," Edward let out a short breath, "And then she stood up and left."

"What?" I exclaimed with a jolt. "That'sbullshit!" I gasped as the movement shifted my ankle.

"Bella..." Edward said with a grin, putting his hand on my calf, "Calm down."

Despite my shock, a little sparkle of pleasure tickled in my chest at the feeling of his hand on me. "You didn't believe her, right?"

He leant back, taking away his hand, "Not at first."

"What?" I said again.

"Being injured gives you a lot of time to think, Bella. I thought she was a bitch, but I still had to take her words into account. Director of the LA Masters Course is a position you'd only get if you were _very _successful. And she had a point. Before LA, I hadn't even thought about my career. I'd just assumed I'd get into the US Ballet and make my way up the ranks. I never questioned whether I'd be able to get in or not. But suddenly I was lying in my bedroom back in Chicago with a screwed knee. I had just embarrassed myself in front of all the artistic directors who mattered in the World. I had no dignity...and I wasn't dancing. That was the most important thing; _I wasn't dancing..." _he looked at me, "And not being able to dance is like..."

"Like the World ending?" I said softly.

He nodded, "And I focussed all the blame for it on my emotion. The way I gave myself over to the music because I thought it was the most important. I decided I would never do that again, no matter how much freedom I got out of it. Because it was wrong. Because I was the only one stupid enough to do it."

I swallowed, looking straight ahead at the notice board on the wall. Where only a few moments ago I had felt warm, my chest suddenly felt cold again. My doubts rushed back to me. Because what he said was almost certainly right...and it contradicted all my actions. Almost everything I had done had gone against the rules, and _all_ of it had been simply the feeling I felt when I danced.

"Bella," Edward said softly. Suddenly I felt his finger on my cheek, gently drawing a warm line down to my chin.

Nervously, I looked at him.

His eyes were earnest, "You surely can't think it ends there?"

"It could," I said, my heart thudding.

He raised one dark eyebrow at me before he dropped his hand back into his lap. "I spent the rest of my recovery buried in books and YouTube videos. I studied everything. The physics of pirouettes. The mythology behind the classic ballets. I learnt Benesh Dance Notation. I read up on how to teach ballet, on careers advice, on mime and characterisation. Every word I read made me want more and more to go and dance, and I hated my actions in LA more and more as the want got stronger and stronger. I began to take Helen Fortescue's words as law.

"When I finally returned to _Force,_ I was much less of an arse than when I'd left," he smiled a little, "I quit messing around. I didn't join Emmett and Jazz in their late night adventures, instead I was sneaking into one of the studios trying to catch up on anything I had missed when I'd been recovering. I focussed more than ever on my technique. On what I knew now to really count. I don't think I left the grounds for over a month. I stayed and I studied until I was beating Jasper and all the danseurs by a mile. Until I was better than the some of the second years...but it was never enough...

"I worked hard to learn the characterisation; the appropriate facials and eye fluttering timed to a semiquaver. In productions, I learnt the other's parts so I would be entirely in sync with them. I practised my moves so much in the mirror that when I stood on the stage it was almost terrifying not being able to visually correct myself. And every step I made, I was adjusting and changing it to make sure it was perfect.

"I never got lost in a dance again. Even when I performed, I was constantly telling myself what I'd just done wrong. I didn't think the audiences were missing out on anything...only me, and, as I'd learnt, my own feelings were unimportant in such a grand art form."

He continued, "I only danced with total freedom on a few occasions, alone. When there was truly no other way to get my feelings out without screaming. But it wasn't the same just dancing alone, not sharing it with an audience or anyone. I felt empty..." he looked soberly out the window. "And I thought that that emptiness would be filled with the next stellar ballet exam or the next gold medal or the next newspaper review...but somehow it never was..."

He trailed off, staring at the grills in the heater.

I thought back to the studio, the night when I had arrived here. Then, there was no doubt that that was Edward dancing for himself...the way his body moved so perfectly with the music. The emotion in every step. How could he deny an audience that passion? How he could deny _himself _that passion? When it was so entrancing it had stolen tears from my eyes...but maybe that was just me. Maybe the rest of the world, like that horrible 'Helen' lady, knew better than to think what I saw was beautiful.

"Of course everything changed," he said quietly, "When you came."

My chest tightened. Edward gazed at me, a small smile on his lips, "I didn't give much thought to you when Mike Newton asked to have you as his partner."

I flicked him a smile, "Plain, am I?"

He laughed, "No; I've just become desensitized to beautiful girls, like every danseur has to do if he doesn't want to go insane."

I felt blood rush to my cheeks. How strange it felt – when was the last time I'd had reason to blush? When one of the Forks High Jocks had come up to me after dance showcase in assembly and asked me whether it was true that ballet dancers didn't wear underwear? A while ago, at any rate...

I bit my lip, looking back at Edward.

He smiled, "Anyway, it was only when that pathetic excuse for a teacher Madame Wright came in that I finally noticed you..." he looked away, "When Mike Newton put his hands on you..."

My heart sent another jolt through my chest at the aversion in his voice, "He didn't know what he was doing," I said in Mike's defence, though I still remembered the bruises on my stomach.

"I know," Edward murmured, "I should have been watching him more carefully when he was with Jessica, but I suspect he wasn't as bad with her, since she didn't make a fuss about it. He probably held you tighter because he was nervous about dancing with you."

"He couldn't have been as nervous as I was," I murmured.

Edward gazed at me, "You didn't show any of it. Even when you showed your pain for a split second, you covered it so well I wasn't even sure I'd seen it in the first place. That was the first thing I noticed about you; your irrational resolve...and how similar it was to my own...even if you hid the pain, you didn't look like the others. You looked determined, and you kept going..." he sighed, running his fingertip over the prickly edge of the top layer of my tutu. "Even when that bastard almost suffocated you..."

I remembered...the air getting squeezed out of me...my mind panicking...and Edward's fearsome shout to stop.

As if he were remembering the same moment, he ran a hand through his hair, "There are few times when I have been as angry as that. I couldn't believe him...the only thing worse was the look on your face."

I frowned, "What do you mean?"

Edward's finger reached the first of the gold vines embroidered into my tutu. He traced the curl as he spoke, "You looked repelled. As if Pas de Deux was the worst thing on Earth. That was when I realized how awful the entire class had been for you. Like I said yesterday, Bella, on the driveway; I could see that you had lost all confidence in Pas de Deux."

I looked blankly at my swollen ankle, "And it was your duty as my teacher to prove it otherwise." I didn't want to hear it again.

His finger halted, "No." He said, making sure he caught my eyes. "I danced with you for a very different reason, Bella."

"Why?" I whispered.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking distantly down at the floor. The light from the heater cast a warm glow on his face, "I'd watched you the whole lesson..." he smiled faintly, "I was mostly focussed on what Mike Newton was doing, of course, but I couldn't help but notice the way you moved...it was as if you were the dancer of my mind's eye. When I visualized movements, I imagined that the person would move in the exact way you were moving. It's hard to explain..." he put a hand to his chin. For the first time, I saw him struggle for words.

"There was just something about you which set you apart from the other dancers. Everyone else had their quirks. Angela kept her arms more bent at the elbows. Jessica tilted her chin down slightly in pirouettes. Megan's moves had a tiny little snap at the end..." he shook his head, "There's nothing wrong with them at all – everyone looks slightly different, and to anyone else, you probably do as well...but to me, when I first saw you move..." he looked up at me, his eyes shimmering in the dim light, "you were like my own personal perfection."

I stared at him, once more transported back to when I had first seen him in the studio..._perfect, he had looked perfect..._

My heart trilled with the possibilities of this...but I took a breath, trying to keep composed, "So you decided to dance with me?"

"I asked you," he said, "Even though it was hardly a good idea after what had just happened with Mike...but I couldn't let you go without trying. Without seeing if it was really possible."

"And?"

He smiled disbelievingly, looking at the floor, "It was as easy as breathing...usually I have to think about the moves – I have to watch the girl to know whether she needs more speed on a pirouette or exactly what her rhythm is or how she's shaping her moves to fit the music. But with you...it was like we were dancing on the same page...your pirouette and my turning were the same thing, if that makes sense..." he ran a hand through his hair again, "It wasn't like we had different roles. Our roles were the same, somehow, even though our moves were different. Everything was one. The dance was one thing...there weren't two interpretations. Everything was..."

"Connected," I said softly, my heart thrumming.

He looked up at me, a smile spreading across his lips, "Exactly. But maybe that would have been okay; I could still have convinced myself that I just demonstrating with a student...but there was that lift..."

That perfect moment when I had been brought up in exultation...raised almost to the ceiling. Like I was soaring about the world...

"I was such a hypocrite," Edward muttered, "I said we shouldn't be doing lifts at all and then I did an overhead."

"There was nothing else to be done," I said boldly. This wasn't a good idea... "There was no other option."

Edward looked at me, "No one would understand you if you said that."

"But do you?" Anxiousness crept unbidden into my voice.

Edward frowned as he heard it, and sat back up. He gently touched my cheek, "You know I do, Bella...I felt as though I would burst, the feelings running through me as I danced with you. It wasn't even a proper dance – just a combination...but I discovered so much in those few steps...and somehow a tiny lift wouldn't have described it..." His finger traced the line of my cheekbone. My eyes fluttered shut a moment, fire erupting in the path he drew.

When I opened them, Edward was looking at me intently, "It felt natural, Bella. Just like how I knew how much to turn you, or how close to stand; it felt like the natural thing to do...to lift you up above everything...because it felt like you wanted to fly..." he dropped his hand from my face to his lap, "It's the stupidest thing, Bella, but I meant what I said; with you, everything felt as one. And when I held you up, it was as if I could feel your freedom...almost like I shared it."

"Like we were both above everything," I said quietly, feeling a soft happiness begin to bubble in my chest. A smile broke out on my face, "I felt that, too."

Edward's grin matched my own, "It was like nothing I've ever experienced before, Bella..." he leaned in closer. Our hands touched on the top of my tutu, "I never thought it was possible to share something so indescribable with anyone else..." his thumb brushed my knuckle, "But I was proved wrong."

My smile lasted one beautiful second longer before I looked down at our hands. "Then why did you leave?" I whispered, even though I was beginning to think I already knew the answer. Edward's hands slipped from mine and back into his own lap. He sat back, bringing a knee up to his chest. He rested his elbow on top of it, staring across the dimly lit room to the window.

"Honestly, Bella...the feeling in me when I danced with you was so strong that it terrified me. I felt everything that I'd been working for go out of me. I didn't care about technique. I didn't care about whether I'd drop you or whether you were doing alright or how it would affect my reputation. I didn't think about the consequences with Tanya. I was just consumed by the girl in my arms...by the way your feelings and mine were so intertwined...and that infinite freedom as I held you high..."

He sighed, "But that's the thing. That moment ended, and I came back to reality. I looked at you and I realized that I had just defied everything I'd learnt in LA. I remembered that you were a First Year. You were my _student. _And I'd just danced with you...almost intimately...in front of an entire class without any thought. I had danced blind, as Helen Fortescue would have called it. And that made me vulnerable. It was what had made me lose everything last time...so I left. I walked out, furious at you...because you brought out in me what I had tried so hard to hide. Furious at myself for forgetting everything I'd learnt."

"Did you ever plan to explain it to me?" I asked quietly.

Edward finally looked at me, "No...and I'm sorry, more sorry than I can even express, that I acted the way I did. You didn't deserve it. I didn't want to explain anything to you, though. I didn't want to even see you again. I went to Esme and told her Newton had hurt you – that was all I planned to say, just to make sure Newton got some sort of a consequence." He sighed, "But Esme's very perceptive of me. She could tell something had changed, and she grilled it out of me." He picked at a loose thread in his tights, "I told her, and even though I said it had been nothing, she knew it had been everything. And she told me not to fight what had happened, that I should embrace it because what you and me appeared to have was rare."

"Is that what she meant tonight?" I asked, "When she said that you'd have saved people grief if you'd embraced it earlier?"

He nodded, "Esme Cullen is one of the smartest people I know. She's never given me a bad piece of advice, neither in ballet nor in life. But I didn't listen to the most important piece she's ever given me...but it was just what Helen Fortescue had warned against; fairytales, romanticism..." Edward gazed at me, his voice turning soft, "And what could be more of a romantic fairytale than some sort of bond between a danseur and a danseuse who've never even met each other?"

"It's like a Cinderella story," I said, understanding. He was right; it was...unrealistic.

He nodded, "The prince falls in love with a girl he doesn't even know, after just one dance with her."

My breath caught for a moment. _Don't overanalyse those words..._

"The prince wasn't as honourable this time, though," said Edward. "Like I said, this was the exact thing Helen Fortescue had told me to ignore, if I wanted to be successful. In real life, Cinderella wouldn't have married the prince at all. Because the prince was a prince and he had his duties."

"You're a talented dancer and you have your career to think about," I said.

"Precisely," he said, "So I went against Esme's advice, instead siding with a woman I'd met only once a few years ago and hadn't even liked. I tried to act like it had never happened. But I was constantly reminded. Word spreads way too fast in this school, as I'm sure you know."

I nodded, "Particularly with my various episodes in the dining hall."

An unexpected smile crept across Edward's face, "Did you really say my name in your sleep?"

I blushed profusely and ducked my head, "Yes..."

Edward burst out laughing. I groaned and pushed my forehead into his shoulder, "I didn't mean to..."

He snorted and put his arm round my waist, "It's flattering."

"And creepy," I mumbled into his t-shirt. The scent was slightly intoxicating...

"Well," He said, "If it makes you feel any better, after everyone went on about Peter Davidson and you at breakfast, I thought I overheard him complaining about you in the corridor."

I withdrew a little, "What was he saying?"

Edward rubbed his chin with his free hand, "That's the thing – turns out he was talking about Isobel Yeats or something, not you, but I didn't know that before I stormed over to him and giving him a massive lecture about respecting his partner because he was so damn lucky to have her."

"Oh no," I grinned.

He nodded distastefully, "Everyone in the corridor knew exactly who I was talking about and exactly what it meant. Alice wouldn't stop grinning at me all day. She was onto me from the moment she heard I'd danced with you. She was like Esme, only more insistent. I don't know how many times she tried to put me in your path in those five days after."

"I never saw you," I said.

"I can be just as strong minded as Alice," he told me as we sat back again. "I ate here instead of in the Dining Hall, I tried to mingle with the crowds in the corridors, and, of course, I stopped teaching your class. But even without Alice's constant reminders, I couldn't keep my mind from you. Everything seemed so much duller now that I knew what fulfilment felt like. My gaze drifted in barre when my eyes should have been glued to the mirror, watching every minute detail. As much as I tried to pull it back, I couldn't help but wonder. Wonder about you. Who you were...whether you'd somehow make it past my avoidance."

He smiled, "And of course rehearsals with Tanya were that much worse. Nothing was the same since I had danced with you. Tanya and I dance well together...but in comparison to you it felt terrible. The gap between us felt massive. Like she wasn't just on a different page, she was in a different book altogether. And you were constantly there in my thoughts..." he gave a nervous smile, "When we were dancing Moonlight Sonata, I could almost picture you dancing it with me. And of course that led to me asking Tanya to change a whole load of things, which she did _not _take well."

"I can imagine," I muttered.

Edward sighed, "But I stayed with her. I fought back all my questions and tried to remind myself of the lesson I learnt in LA and kept doing what I had always done. It got easier to focus the more time that passed where I didn't see you. But then I was in the gym when Mrs Cope burst in and thrust a phone into my hands."

I frowned confusedly. "What?"

"It was Esme demanding where the hell I'd been when I was meant to be taking your class."

"Angela," I said quietly.

Edward put his head in his hands, "It was my fault that any of it happened. If I hadn't been such an idiot, I would have been there and I would have stopped Madame Wright from doing such a stupid thing...Angela could still be dancing right now if I had."

"It was Madame Wright's fault, Edward," I said, "She was the teacher, not you."

"You said it yourself Bella; if I knew anything about safety, I wouldn't have left your class to her."

"I didn't mean that," I told him desperately. If only I could have gone back and kicked my past self... "I was just angry at you for ignoring me. It wasn't your responsibility to make sure we were safe in that class. You were just there to see how to teach."

"There's a reason why I was put in that class and not another, Bella," he said, "Carlisle trusted me to make sure Madame Wright didn't do anything stupid."

"He should have fired her if he was so concerned!" I exclaimed. "It wasn't for you to be mediator. Besides, Angela doesn't blame you."

"She wouldn't," he said. "She's too nice a person."

I put a hand on his tensed arm, "Then don't insult her judgement, Edward."

He didn't move, "There's a chance she might never dance again, isn't there?"

I swallowed and looked down, knowing I couldn't lie, "Maybe – they don't know yet...but you could regret a thousand things in your life which you couldn't have foreseen the consequences of and it would do no one any good. You couldn't have known that this was likely to happen, otherwise you would have stayed."

Edward looked up at me, "How did you get to know me without me ever saying an honest word to you?"

I shrugged, "Maybe, somewhere deep down in my subconscious, I knew they weren't honest and I read the inverse instead..."

He smiled at me, his eyes shining, "You're a force to be reckoned with, Miss Swan."

I grinned, "And you're a story teller who hasn't finished the story, sir."

Edward made a face, "I hated it when you called me that..." He gave a heavy sigh and sat back up, "Where were we, then?"

"The next day," I said, "Pas de Deux."

He smiled, "Finally I got to see you." His features darkened, "Along with Peter Davidson...he really got on my nerves..."

"He's a good dancer."

Edward raised an eyebrow at me, "And he has the emotional drive of a plank of wood."

"Edward!" I smacked him on the shoulder.

He held his hands up, his eyes bright, "What? It's true!"

"He's shy," I said. "And he was a good partner."

"What?" Edward exclaimed, "He was terrible. Everything he did looked wrong."

"To you...but to me he was almost perfect because the one person who would have done it better..." I bit my lip, "I thought hated me."

"Bella..." Edward said softly, "I spent that entire lesson trying not to think about how much I wanted to be in his place. When I'd first come in I'd been determined to treat you like any other student, but one look at you with him and I knew I couldn't. I wanted to be the one to hold you...to gain the trust that you gave him...and I wanted to dance with you again. I didn't hate you. Not for a minute. And I didn't really hate Peter, however much I wished he wasn't there." He frowned, "I _was _infuriated when I found out he'd dropped you."

"That wasn't his fault at all," I said. "Angela pretty much fell into me. It happened way too quickly."

"And you didn't tell anyone you'd blacked out."

"I knew what would happen if I did," I said, looking at him meaningfully.

"I couldn't let you keep dancing, Bella," he said. He gestured to me, "You looked like you were going to faint."

"You didn't have to take me to Doctor Hill."

"You needed to be checked out. It could have been much worse than it was."

I sighed, knowing he was probably right. "Well it certainly made things problematic."

"Just a little," Edward muttered, "I'm sorry all the crap that you got from your class. When they were having a go at you in the Dining Hall, I had half a mind to go and punch Lauren's snarky face..."

I laughed despite myself, "I wish..."

"I wanted to go to you so badly after you walked out," he said, his eyes sad, "But I knew that if I talked to you properly just once, I'd end up dropping the last of my fight. So I asked Alice to go instead."

"You asked her?" I repeated.

He nodded, "She was just waiting to see if I'd go before she did, though. She cares about you a lot."

"She didn't say anything about what we talked about, right?"

"No, of course not," he looked away, "Apart from telling me that I was the biggest jerk in history."

I laughed, "Alice..."

"Alice indeed," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, Bella...I don't know how I managed to ignore the fact that you were hurt...I won't again."

"You didn't yesterday," I pointed out. "My class was terrified."

"Good." He smirked, "I had to try _very _hard not to laugh through that whole lesson. Lauren really didn't have a clue. It was a total abuse of my teaching authority, of course, but it was worth it...I wish I'd been there to see Emmett and Jasper's stunt, too."

"You three are all geniuses," I said.

He grinned, "Glad we could be of service."

We were quiet for a moment, sitting in the half light. He had told me so much...I needed to process it. I had never even thought of _not _having expression...of not dancing with anything less than your heart...even if it sounded like something off the Disney Channel, I had to believe it was true. It was what had gotten me through all the catching up I'd had to do, starting so late. It was what had made me want to start in the first place...it was what made pointe shoes worth the pain. It was what made the long classes bearable. It was what made me want to give up my education and my home for ballet...but then I wasn't at the level Edward was at.

And maybe that was it, like that Fortescue woman had said; if you wanted to be a _successful _ballet dancer, you couldn't have all the 'from the heart' stuff. I had no proof that it was otherwise. I wasn't successful. Jeez, I was in First Year...maybe Edward wouldn't have been where he was at now if he hadn't given up the passion. Maybe that was the price you had to pay...and so maybe it made sense for Edward to ignore me...to not acknowledge what we had between us. He wanted a good career, not to crash and burn with a partner who was nowhere near his level.

The water heater in the kitchen clicked on and began boiling.

Edward and I seemed to come back to each other simultaneously. He sat cross-legged now, facing me.

I brought my good leg up to my chest, resting my chin on my knee.

"Yesterday afternoon wasn't as good, was it?" He said with a sad smile.

"Not exactly..." I frowned, "Why did you pick me up? I wouldn't have known if you'd driven past"

"I picked you up because you looked like you were going to get hypothermia, Bella," he flicked me a smile, "I'd already done far too many dishonourable things to leave you standing in the rain. It was coincidence. I'd been driving around for a while, thinking...wondering whether I'd have been better off if Helen Fortescue had never come into my hospital room. If I had recovered and had kept dancing for the feeling. But I knew that I had become as good as I was because I'd focussed solely on the physical. I knew that I'd have a better career if I continued with that."

Yet my curiosity about you was so strong...was it really going to affect my career so much? It was the same question that had been plaguing me since you'd come. I was still undecided when I saw you at the bus stop, and all the way to Wrystone...to Tanya and Irina," he grimaced, "And suddenly they were offering me a fast track to the US Ballet and I had to make a decision."

"And you chose them," I said softly.

Edward shut his eyes, taking a breath in. When he opened them, he looked directly at me. "I chose what I knew. What was certain. I didn't take the risk. I chose what my father had always wanted...and honestly, what a lot of me wanted. The US Ballet's a prestigious company, with great dancing and world tours and so many opportunities. I could have a great career with them...so I said yes, even as you sat across from me. Before you came, I would have said yes without a second thought. But yesterday, as soon as I agreed to it I felt my heart sink."

He rubbed his eyes, "So I tried to make it seem like nothing when you confronted me on the driveway. When I told you that I danced with you because I could see you'd lost confidence and it was my job to restore it...when I told you I stormed out because I'd taken you out of your depth because I was used to dancing with more experienced dancers...I was telling you what I wished were my excuses. That this was just some simple thing about me screwing up as a teacher and that it didn't have anything to do with the fact that you'd unlocked something in me which I'd kept hidden for such a long time and that I was so uncertain of. I hoped, though, for a split second that you'd believe me and that it would somehow release you from the bond that we felt. So that you wouldn't miss it..."

"I believed you," I said quietly, "But did you really think I could just forget all about you?"

"God no, Bella. As soon as I saw your expression, I knew that you were as likely to forget as I was."

"I didn't think you'd felt a single thing, Edward," I said shakily, "I thought I was just being stupid. I thought I was just deluding myself...and you let me keep thinking that...you tossed me back and forth so many times...all the times you looked at me like I was nothing but an irritating little girl and all the other times when you looked at me like you knew my _soul..._one minute you'd be ignoring me and then you'd be there like some sort of a guardian angel..." I bit my lip. I needed to calm down...

"Bella..." Edward breathed, and then pulled me into his arms. I clung to him, my head tucked under his chin, his heart beating steadily against me. "I'm so sorry..."

"I know," I whispered into his chest. "It was just...difficult."

He held me closer, and I shut my eyes against the World.

I don't know how long we sat like that; I didn't count. I hardly thought. I just let myself sink into his blissful embrace. He was here now...that was what mattered.

Eventually, I pulled back. Edward gently brushed a stray piece of hair from my cheek, gazing at me. "When you kept on pushing me away this morning, I didn't understand just how much I'd put you through..."

This morning...it seemed like such a long time ago. "You just took me by surprise," I said, remembering finishing my dance and seeing him just standing in the doorway.

"So did you," he murmured with a very small quirk of his lips.

I frowned at the change in his tone, "What is that meant to mean?"

"That particular piece of music is...very well known to me."

"I know," I blurted out with a grin, before I realized how weird it sounded... "I mean...I caught a glimpse of you dancing to it once."

Edward smiled, "It was the one I danced to in LA."

"What?" I said, "How can you dance to it when..."

"When it has all the bad memories?" He shrugged, "I don't know. It's the one piece I still let myself be free with. I give myself over to the music...and I know that's strange, because it was the exact one which stopped all of that freedom...but I think that maybe there was a link there...the majority of times when I've danced to it have been because the emptiness got too much. The emptiness which I only got because of the injury I got dancing to the song...I guess it's ironic. Either way, it's become the piece closest to my heart...and then this morning I was walking around mindlessly, trying to convince myself that I'd made the right decision yesterday, and I heard it playing. And there you were..."

He looked at me, "You were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Bella. Ever. The way your very essence was poured into your steps...and it was just like when I first saw you. I knew the way you moved. I almost knew what you were going to do next, with the way the music went. _My _music. The one piece I had confided myself in. The piece which almost defines me, when every other piece I dance to is simply a ghost of the real me...and you were dancing it with as much understanding as I did..."

He shook his head disbelievingly, "If I hadn't had such a screwed up sense of pride, I would have told you right there and then that I'd been lying every moment since I'd danced with you." He shut his eyes, "I wouldn't have left you when you were so upset..."

"You had your audition to get to," I said softly. "You had to go."

He glanced at me, "Wouldn't you have rather I'd stayed?"

"It was a massive opportunity," I said, avoiding the question.

He raised an eyebrow at me before he leaned sideways against the couch, "It was one of the most depressing car journeys I've ever had. Tanya was chattering on about anything and everything in her usual way before a performance. Usually I support her, but today I was too messed up myself to care. We got on the plane and I spent the full four and a half hours staring out the window...

"Usually when I'm going into a performance, I think through each step I'm going to make, all my weak points. I listen to the music and mark out all the moves. I prepare myself for what to expect...but all that was in my head this time was your face. I knew I was going to get the part, along with Tanya. And we were going to tour the country as soloists earlier than we'd ever dreamt, with a real company...but I could only think that I would never see you again. I would never find out all that I'd wondered about you. I'd never dance with you again. Never talk to you...

"I'd ended it before it had even begun, Bella..." he looked down at his hands, cupped in his lap, "But I knew that this was such a big opportunity, and that I shouldn't let my emotions get in the way. I had to forget about the fairytale which had begun when I'd first danced with you. For the good of my career..."

He let out a breath, "We arrived in New York, and we got to the USB Building. Frank Rebrevae met us at the door and shook our hands and smiled like we were his saviours, which I guess we were. We passed all the posh practice rooms and the cafeteria and the walls and walls of photos of dancers. We saw five famous faces in the first ten minutes...and he showed us to a studio where we could warm up. And I looked around me and I realized that I was nervous...nervous like I've never been before."

"Why?" I asked, "You knew the audition was just a custom. You were already in."

"And that's why I was nervous," he said, "I was nervous about the fact that I was going to get in...that I was going to achieve all my goals, get my career...and the question just hit me. Why did I want a career? Why did I want to spend my life doing it? Why ballet, above everything else?"

He gazed out the dark window, "And I knew it wasn't for the fame or the physicality or the travel. It was for the love of dance. And I realized that when I had answered Helen Fortescue all those years ago when she'd asked me if I wanted to do ballet as a career, I had answered with the assumption that I would always be able to dance with my heart and nothing less." He looked to me, "Because _that _is why I do ballet. And I was nervous because I knew that if I got this job, I would be throwing away the very reason for getting it in the first place.

"Ever since LA, I have danced with the belief that I would get something out of it...but not once did I wonder why I was putting myself through so much stress and heartache...but then today I finally did...I ran out of the USB building without a single word of explanation to Frank Rebrevae or any one. I told Tanya that I couldn't do it, and that she should do it alone and get them to find someone from the company for her.

"I guess it was a little harsh...but she didn't need me..." he frowned, as if remembering, "And of course now I've seen her true colours, I'm not sure I can care that much anyway. She followed me, though, screaming at me as I hailed a taxi and tipped the driver _heavily _to get us to the airport as fast as he could. I knew I had a ridiculously short amount of time before any flight that left would get us there too late. I was so desperate I rang my father as we ripped through New York and told him to get us a flight back."

"What'd you tell him it was for?" I asked.

"He didn't know what I was in New York for – thank God I hadn't told him. I just said I'd been in New York teaching little kids or something and that I had to get back to the review because Tanya and I were dancing in it and Jeffrey Evans was in the audience and it was almost an audition. Ironic, I know."

I grinned, "So you got the plane?"

"My father pulled a few strings...well, he wrenched them, actually, seeing as he thought I had a chance of getting into the USB if I got back to _Force _on time. He got us business class tickets on a flight which was meant to have left ten minutes before we arrived at the airport. I don't think the people of New York were not prepared for some crazy guy running down the main terminal of the JFK in tights with Irina and Kate Denali's kid sister screaming behind him. I was lucky we didn't get pulled up by security.

"We got on the flight _just _in time. Even my father can't halt the whole airport. All the passengers looked totally miffed, but God I didn't care." Edward laughed, shaking his head, "I spent the whole flight marching up and down the aisle in my costume, as if my urgency would somehow make the plane move faster."

"Did it?" I asked jokingly.

"No, but I did manage to charm the air hostess into letting us off the plane before all the First Class people."

"You _charmed _her?" I said.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "There's something about air hostesses...they just succumb to me."

"What, to your male charm?"

Edward grinned, "Every female wants a straight ballet dancer as a boyfriend – we have everything. The body, the looks, the commitment, the manners – "

"The unending modesty," I chimed.

"Oh come on...you don't even find me slightly attractive?"

I looked away indifferently, "Peter's more my type." I couldn't smile...I could _not _smile...my lips quirked slightly.

"Oh really now?" Edward said.

"Yeah," I got out. "He's just..."

"Yes, Bella?"

I bit my lip, "Well, he's..."

"He's what?"

"He's got nice posture," I said reasonably.

"Right," Edward said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "What else?"

"He's focussed..."

"Mhm?"

"Well his hair's nice..." I kept my eyes fixed on the coffee table. What _did _his hair look like?

"Miss Swan," Edward said studiously, "Would I be right in thinking that you're struggling to give me answers?"

"You're just jealous," I said politely. I sat back into the couch, "Ah, Peter..."

"Alright, that's it," and suddenly he was pulling me to him. I caught a single glimpse of his bright eyes before our lips met hungrily. My hand cupped his neck, his arm wound tightly around my waist. I felt his smile against my mouth as we pulled each other even closer. My breath was loud to my ears. His fingers ran up my bare back. Our lips met again and again, in total bliss. We clung to each other, for everything that we had denied before...

My hand slid up his hard chest, and suddenly he was falling back, pulling me down with him. I lifted my right ankle high and laughed as I landed on top of him, our stomachs in line with each other. Edward smiled up at me, his chest rising and falling heavily under my hands, "Still going for Peter?"

I rolled my eyes and pecked him on the lips one last time.

He chuckled, "Thought so."

I rolled off him and we lay facing each other, Edward's hand still resting on my hip.

"So how much did you see?" I asked.

He propped himself up on his elbow, "We got off the plane at about...ten to seven. Ran through security, and managed to drive here in about half an hour."

"That's fast," I said. "You weren't speeding, right?"

He raised his eyebrow, "What else is an a hundred thousand dollar Mercedes for?"

I shook my head as reprovingly as I could, lying on a couch.

Edward grinned and continued, "It's still parked outside the door, which might create a bit of an issue with all the busses later, but I was in a bit of a rush. Master Hinde, the idiot, wouldn't let me into the audience where Carlisle was, so we went the backstage way, past all the dressing rooms."

"Wait, you mean you might have run right past my door?"

He nodded, "Possibly. God, that could've made things easier...still, I really didn't know what I was doing, trying to get Esme and Carlisle to change their minds two minutes before your class was meant to start. I just knew that you'd been so upset this morning and I had to try and solve that when I'd failed to before. It was lucky you'd already decided to go against the rules...I reached backstage and was just about ready to shout for Esme when Alice shoved me into a dark corner and told me that if I valued anything behind my ballet belt, I'd shut up and do as she said. And then she pushed into one of the front wings, the one in front of your class."

"So that I wouldn't see you..." I murmured. Alice was smart. Because if I'd seen him...well, I probably would've fainted just as the curtains opened...

"I couldn't believe it when I heard them all say your name..." Edward's eyes shone brightly, "And then you came out looking like a Prima Ballerina..." his fingers traced the seam of my bodice, "And you danced like one...God, I was hypnotised, Bella..." his eye dropped, "Which is why I hardly had any thought as to where Tanya had gone."

"And then I face planted," I said.

"It wasn't too bad. Trust me, there have been worse..." he grimaced, "Emmett was just about to pull the curtain shut, and then you got back up and started dancing again..._that _was insane."

"But was it obvious?" I asked, "_That's _what's important."

"No...but I could tell you'd lost your spark. The link with the music. I knew you were in pain – you wouldn't have stopped it otherwise. And I knew that you would keep on going...even if it killed you."

"It wouldn't have come to that," I scoffed.

He looked at me seriously, "A bad injury could've ruined your career...so I went on, without a single thought..." he smiled, "And you know the rest from there."

"A dance of complete spontaneity," I said proudly.

He nodded, "And there is no way that it could have been wrong, Bella. It felt like perfection. I'm sure Carlisle will have plenty to beat us down with...but that dance will never be replicated...and never be bettered, in some ways..."

"I wish we could do that every performance," I said quietly.

Edward gently traced patterns over my waist, "I know...but I don't think this...bond we have with one another is likely to end with the first hint of choreography Carlisle throws at us..." he frowned, his hand halting, "That is, of course, if you want to continue with me after...everything I've done."

I gazed at him, "Do you promise to never do it again?"

He looked at me with his deep emerald eyes, "Never, Bella. Never again."

"Then yes," I said, "I want to be your partner for as long as you'll have me."

He smiled and kissed me on the forehead. "Forever."

I snuggled into his side, feeling calm despite all the turmoil that was sure to come in the wake of tonight.

After a minute, my eyes were beginning to droop closed, my thoughts lulled by the steady beat in Edward's chest.

"Come on," he sighed, his cheek pressed against the top of my head, "You're meant to be getting locked in a dance-proof cell, remember?"

"Ugh," I groaned, "Not yet..."

He chuckled and stood up. I whimpered at the loss of his warmth.

Gently, he slid his hands under me and lifted me up, one arm under my knees, the other on my back. I opened my eyes as he gently set me down in front of him. In the dim light he did not look like a human...he looked like a God. How was this possible? That he was here...with me?

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be in New York, with a real company?"

He smiled and shook his head, "No, Bella. I still have so much to learn...what happened in LA cannot happen again. There is an entire world of dance which I haven't let myself touch, and I need to be here, at _Force,_ if I'm going to be able to experiment..." his eyes glinted darkly, "and besides, the most important thing of all is here..." he reached out and took my hand, "and I'm going to need to be in the same place if I'm to dance with all of my heart..." he brought my knuckles to his lips,

"Because she owns a part of it."

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**Please Review!**

**Epilogue coming soon...**


	28. Chapter 28

Hello!

Oh, before I forget; good luck in the Rugby World Cup!

**Go All Blacks and the English!**

_Moving on..._

This is it...last chapter...wow...

Very quickly:

**Sequel!**

A lot of you guys have asked whether there will be a sequel! At this point, I have a lot of ideas (dating back to the night I first came up with the idea of Clair, so almost a year's worth). I can't give a definite 'yes' right now because I don't know what's going to happen next (Volcano? Tsunami?), but if it's going to happen I will put up a new chapter here, on Clair, which will preview it and tell you where to go to read it!

This will probably happen in the Summer Holidays (December and January), but it all depends.

**Betaing!**

Right, so I was looking about on Fanfiction recently and I've realized that there are quite a few writers out there with one or two chapter Fanfics which have awesome ideas! but haven't really gotten off the ground yet for whatever reason. If anyone wants a beta for one of these kind of stories I would love to help (not just spelling but also ideas and themes and character and such)! Please flick me a message or a review if you're interested!

**Tudor London and Sugar Plum!**

Okay, Tudor London now becomes first priority and Sugar Plum second. I hope to write Sugar during the week, and Tudor during the weekends. We'll see how it works out, but that is my master plan for the next few months.

**THANK YOU!**

**I've been through earthquakes and laptop failures and writer's block and all these things and you guys have been amazing! You've stood by me when you've had perfect right to ditch Clair! Thank you! And thanks for all your advice and kicks-up-the-butts and suggestions and criticism and praise. It is just awesome! Please know that you guys have made this story happen!**

**Merci Beaucoup!**

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to L, who has put up with me rather a lot since the Quake. Thank you for dealing with me bursting into the room asking for synonyms..._

_And it's also dedicated to my mummy :P I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way you and L wanted it to end...ugh...ewww...ewwwwww...however, thanks for everything. You're amazing, hope you know it! :D Merci beaucoup, ma mere!_

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Everything had gone wrong tonight. Not one thing had gone to plan...but perhaps that was made the night one of the best of my life, despite everything...

My ankle turned out to have a very bad strain. Doctor Hill was almost gleeful to tell us that I'd have to be off for at least three weeks, delightedly pointing at one of his posters; _'Paralysis with your Pirouettes.' _Three weeks seemed far too long, but Edward assured me he'd lend me all the theory books he'd tortured himself with, so I wouldn't miss out. Doctor Hill taped up my ankle and let me borrow a crutch for the night, and I hobbled into the Dining Hall with one hand around Edward's waist, the other clutching the ugly grey thing. At least my pointe shoe ribbons half concealed the tape.

There was a bit of a pause in conversation as we entered. All the patrons and audience turned, taking in my condition. I blushed a deep red as the hall turned silent. _Oh God, I shouldn't have come..._But then they began to clap.

Suddenly, Edward and I were enveloped in a rush of compliments and questions, handshakes and pats on the back. People wanted to know how long we'd been dancing together for, where I'd trained before _Force, _what had happened to Tanya Denali?

Edward answered the last with a firm 'Tanya and I are no longer partners.' It sent an thrill up me, hearing those words, although I knew that they were dangerous; there was no question that Tanya was better than me...but then Edward had chosen, and I had to trust him...as another person asked the same question, I decided that at least for tonight, I wouldn't worry myself stressing about whether he would really be able to put up with me.

Though it was still difficult not to be in awe of him. He knew so many of the people, and graciously introduced me to every single one. He was only seventeen...yet these ballet fans and directors and teachers and patrons talked to him with the high regard they would a principal danseur...

Eventually Master Hinde made the call for everyone to take their seats for the award ceremony. We excused ourselves from the portly-looking benefactor we'd been speaking with, and Edward helped me over to where my class sat, still in their light blue ensembles.

He sat by me as they all clucked about, giving me a blow-by-blow account of all they'd seen. It was hard for him, I knew, trying to keep a teacher-student relationship with everyone else but the complete opposite with me. Violet and Eliza could hardly stop giggling, looking between us like we were playing a game of tennis.

Despite the slight awkwardness of the situation, my class felt like a proper class again. Jessica was perched on the lap of a beaming Mike Newton, chatting away to Megan and Selene. And Lauren actually seemed quite animated as she picked out all the flaws in Master Rodriguez's routine, which I supposed was a slight improvement on face-to-face insult.

It was bizarre, really, that all of us were so close after so many hostilities. I knew that it wouldn't last – that soon we'd be at each other's throats again. But for the moment, we were a team who had beaten the worst of odds and had still come through shining...

Although, we didn't win.

Master Hinde announced with quite the most irksome smile at me that Madame Cox's class was disqualified for having a dancer in their piece who was not registered in the class and, indeed, not even registered in the same year group. Edward whispered an earnest 'sorry' to my class, but they all looked at him like he was mad.

Master Hinde asked Master Rodriguez to come up and collect the trophy for the fifth year running.

We clapped politely with everyone else. Some looked slightly down-beat, but Lauren leaned over and, with a smirk, said, "Well, maybe we didn't win, but Jesus, whose dance is going to be more memorable? We were badass."

Though Edward, probably not ever destined to forgive her, looked away stonily, I had to smile back. She was right; we were the history makers. And up on the stage Madame Cox clapped with a twinkle in her eye. I was glad; even after my surprise entry, things hadn't gone as planned...we certainly hadn't gotten the win she'd been wanting, but it seemed she was happy.

Edward's class won the senior competition, despite his absence. I squeezed his hand as we watched them all jump up and hug each other. "I'm a real idiot," he muttered.

"You know they've already forgiven you," I said, smiling as Jasper lifted Alice up in his arms. They were once again back to their rowdy selves...

Rosalie and Emmett's pas de deux had given Master Carlisle and Madame Esme a run for their money, apparently. Eliza and Violet whispered to us that they'd done a 'seriously hot' tango kind of thing, and that they'd probably have beaten the teachers if Carlisle and Esme had done a clean, classical piece. But, as it was, they seemed to have predicted what Em and Rose were going to do, and so they equalled the heat with a saucy pas de deux from Carmen, the story of the seductress.

We laughed as Master Carlisle gave Madame Esme a chaste kiss, then held up their trophy in triumph with a wink to Rosalie and Emmett.

With the awards ceremony finished, I had figured we'd all be sent to bed to rest before a full day of classes tomorrow. But then music began playing and drinks and food were brought out – the champagne, I noticed, was kept well away from us students – and people began mingling again. Edward whispered me a promise of return and went to apologize to his friends.

Peter came up and congratulated me, saying that it seemed I'd found his replacement. I bit my lip, smiling. I'd managed to foster a fondness for him over the past week, even though he was probably one of the most serious dancers I'd ever met. He was funny, in a quiet way...but he was right; Edward was the one and only danseur who could ever dance with me the way I truly wanted.

Angela came hurrying up soon after, pulling a besotted Ben along behind her. I amusedly noticed her rumpled hair and blushing cheeks before she threw her arms around me, "That was insane! I was so proud! Everyone in the crowd was gawping, seriously!"

I laughed, feeling so happy. We pulled back and I looked at her bad arm, "I just wish you could've been on stage with us, Angela. I missed you up there."

She smiled with a hint of sadness, "We'll find out soon...just promise me free tickets to all of you and Edward's performances when you're both famous and I'll be happy."

"We'll get you through it, Ange'," said Ben, gently putting his arm around her. "You'll be back dancing in no time."

"With you, I hope?" She said, leaning back against his chest.

I hid my smile and slipped away before things got too hot.

The night wore on, and the kitchen staff certainly showed their skills, serving out platter after platter of treats. I guessed that tonight was the one exception to the strict diet they usually kept us on.

I didn't see Tanya at all for the rest of the night, although rumours were circulating that she'd been seen in a corner in a deep discussion with the director of the US Ballet Academy. I wondered what to think of it; did it mean she was going into the school? Or straight into the US Ballet, despite her missing the audition. I decided it would be better not to care. She could liaise what she wanted with Jeffrey Evans; I didn't want to have anything to do with either of them.

Of course, if I was going to continue with ballet then I would eventually bump into them again.

And continuing with ballet? I could hardly think of doing anything else...because when I had first come to this academy, I had thought myself just a schoolgirl with an affection for dance. An academic toying with the idea of ballet. But now I knew who I was, and what I was capable of...

Now I was a ballet dancer.

When the time was nearing Midnight, I was standing with Eliza, Violet, Angela and Ben and a few others, half listening to their conversation about what the big production might be this year. Violet had managed to swig a couple of glasses of champagne from somewhere, and her giggling was higher than ever as Eliza suggested that we do a ballet version of Hannah Montana.

A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around my shoulders. I smiled as his scent swirled around me. "You look like you need an escape," he whispered in my ear.

"Is it that obvious?" I replied.

His chest moved against my back as he chuckled, "I suppose I'll have to rescue you, then."

With a quick excuse to my friends, I slipped my hand into Edward's and we snuck through the crowd to the doors.

The Entrance Hall was cool in comparison to the Dining Hall, and I let out a long breath, turning to look at him. He gazed at me, a smile on his lips, "You are beautiful, Bella."

I blushed, glancing down at my hands, "Stage makeup."

He rolled his eyes, "Well, it doesn't detract too much..."

I couldn't help but beam at him then, feeling happiness flow through me, calm and seemingly endless...and I knew it wasn't. I knew that tomorrow would see Tanya's revenge and Lauren's return to bitchiness and Master Carlisle's various punishments and expectations.

"Things aren't going to be easy," Edward murmured, seeming to concur with my thoughts without meaning to.

"I know," I said.

We slowly began making our way to the stairs. Without a word, Edward hoisted me up in his arms. I balanced my crutch in one hand and wrapped the other around his neck. Stars twinkled outside the great window as he carried me up the stairs. I looked at his chiselled features. If I was beautiful then he was godlike...and I was so, so lucky to have him.

_I have him..._

The thought started it. The music in my head...serene and light.

We reached the first floor, and we both stilled. The notes played strongly in my head. Edward gently set me down, still holding my weight as my foot touched the ground. I looked down the corridor, past the various doors where I'd taken my classes each day. The pull was so strong...I looked back at Edward.

"Bella," Edward said, "You're injured...it wouldn't be a good idea..."

I raised my eyebrow, seeing the complete contradiction in his emerald eyes. They were alight with emotion. And I knew that he could hear it too; the music.

A smile crept to his lips once more, and he stepped back, taking my hand in his own.

We walked down the corridor, the pain in my ankle faded by the feel of something much stronger. I knew Doctor Hill had commanded that I rest, but he didn't understand...dance had power over me, much more than an injury...

We entered the last door on the left...the door through which I had first glimpsed this man...and any thought of worry flew from my head.

Moonlight poured through the windows, catching on the dust which lingered in the air. The empty floor was bathed in white. I relaxed, feeling the cool air surround me...

Edward returned from the stereo. He took both my hands in his own and led me to the centre.

We looked at each other, breathing as one. And the music began all around us.

We stepped back, lowering our hands, as the first notes played, delicate and soft. I lowered into a deep curtsy, he into a bow. A surrender. To one another. And then our fingertips touched again, and he slowly pulled me back up to him. I let myself lean back, my spine curving over his hands. My arms stretched above my head, my fingers swirling the dust. I smiled, my eyes shutting, languishing in this freedom...

I came back up, and we turned so that he stood behind me. His lips brushed my bare neck as my leg reached out. I couldn't help but sigh, letting my head lean back against his chest. He turned me in a slow pirouette, the notes gently coming down as my arms rose. He spun me faster as the music gained intensity, and faster again.

And then quickly it came into its first flourish, and I halted, my arms around his neck, one leg back in an arabesque. He spun me again, and then once more. We grinned; both knowing what was coming next. With the final flourish, I pulled back, and he kissed my knuckles in farewell, his eyes meeting mine with a glint mischief.

The fast notes began, and we parted, I one way and he the other. I spun and twirl in a wide circles the notes tumbled on delightfully, letting my happiness reign free! In his own circle, Edward leapt high and free, his face one of pure bliss. It seemed like the second time tonight that I could not help but laugh with glee as I danced.

As the music darkened for a moment, we stayed at opposite sides, I moving in place on my pointes, my arms in an oval above my head, and Edward tiptoeing, his arms out wide, showing all his power.

The music broke out of its hush into its high notes again, and finally we were rushing to each other, I spinning into a pirouette as our hands met. We toured the room, Edward lifting me in high leaps and complex catches which seemed like the easiest thing in the World. Everything was natural, everything was meant to be...he twirled me in a tight set of step turns as the music twinkled up even higher. As they reached their breaking point, his hands quickly went to my waist, and he lifted me into the air, as if I were a bird he was setting free. I let out another exhilarated breath, feeling so joyous...

But then the music began to soften, turning delicate again. My breathing slowed. Gently, Edward turned me so that I faced him. I put my hands on his shoulders. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought me down his body, first my legs and then my stomach gliding down his chest until my toes touched the ground once more. I looked at him, realizing that here I had something as precious as the melody described. How? How was I worthy of this?

I turned myself away from him as the notes gently dropped. My eyes closed. Was this really possible? This connection? Really?

But Edward stepped closer behind me. His hand gently slid down my wrist, his fingers linking with mine. He knew my thoughts...he knew my worry...the other hand did the same. As a new chord played, he wrapped his arms, joined with mine, across my chest, holding me against him. I felt his warmth...his trust...his _love..._

I turned to face him, unshed tears suddenly warm in my eyes and a smile curved on my lips. He gazed at me with all the emotion in the World before the music flowed into its final tumble of notes, quick and yet deeper than the previous times. Joy running as deep as the heart.

Together, Edward and I danced those final few bars, letting our very essences entwine.

And as the last chord played, we held each other, my leg up in an arabesque, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. And as the final note faded, our lips met, sealing whatever fate awaited us.

_Clair de Lune..._

* * *

Well guys, that is it.

I started writing this one night after watching Secret Lives of Dancers...and here we are now!

Thank you so much for everything. You guys, people who I've never even met, have been my biggest inspiration for this. I can't find a big enough way to say thank you...

Heh, anyway. Please, if you can spare a moment, flick me one last review!

If you've followed Clair along and you haven't sent me a review yet (oh yeah, I know there are a few of you about :P), now's the time!

If you have been reviewing, trust me, I recognize you each review and I love to hear how you follow the story! Tell me your end thoughts!

Thank you once again. I couldn't have asked for a better audience...

**So go forth! Tell your friends! Reread it without all the month long gaps! _Write your own!_**


	29. SEQUEL!

Hello!

I am incredibly psyched to be putting up this really short Author's Note to tell you that...

**The sequel to Clair de Lune - Pas de Trois - is up!**

I'm so excited for it! Here is a preview, though do go and read the full thing. Link on my profile and of course just search 'Pas de Trois'.

I am so sorry that I have been quiet for so long - believe it or not, I've been busy in a good way!

Okay, please check this out! And tell me your thoughts on anything!

**Oh, and just a wee thing to think about: _Pas de Trois_ means _Step of Three_...hmmmmmm? What could this mean?**

* * *

It was after dinner that we finally got the answer to the mystery. Alice and I had cleaned up, insisting that the two chefs go and take a break. And now we returned to the living room to see my parents sitting there, carefully arranged smiles on their faces.

"What?" I said uncertainly as they looked at me, their anxiousness showing right through.

"We have a present for you, sweetie," said Mom.

"Since when did Thanksgiving involve presents?" I asked confusedly.

"There's a first for everything," she replied. "Sit down..."

Alice and I awkwardly sat on the other couch. Somehow I sensed that Alice's presence was making whatever this was even more difficult for my parents.

I looked expectantly at them, and Dad produced a large white envelope. "Happy Thanksgiving, Bells."

My nerves growing, I took it. "Am I getting Grandma Swan's Christmas money early?" I asked in vain, even though it was way too big to be one of Grandma's homemade cards.

Mom gave a high, off-key laugh. "No. Just open it..."

With a deep breath, I slid my thumb under the seal and tore it open. Inside was a glossy booklet. Frowning, I pulled it out. The front cover had a danseur in arabesque – one leg outstretched behind him, one arm reaching in front – on a dark stage, his lean muscles and handsome face only lit in blue light. Had it been just the photo, I would have marvelled at his perfect line and technique...but then I read the calligraphy above:

_Aro Colaianni_

_School of Contemporary and Classical Dance_

_Syllabus 2011 - 2012_

I stared at the words, unable to speak. I didn't even want to contemplate...but already my mind was spinning into frenzy. "Mom..." I whispered. "What are you suggesting here?"


End file.
